Ad astra per aspera
by tfm
Summary: Gail Peck had made a lot of mistakes in her life, but she knew that one of the biggest was scaring yet another person she loved away. Things have to get worse before they get better, and unfortunately for Gail, "worse" doesn't even begin to describe it.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Gail Peck gave herself a single minute of stunned silence.

She'd expected to have a good time, drink a little, dance a little, and forget about all the other crap that was going on in her life. Somehow, that expectation had evolved to sitting in the coat room wearing somebody else's coat, and trying to figure out that the hell had just happened.

Her lips were sticky, but still kind of dry. She pressed them together, frowning.

Fuck.

_Fuck_.

Gail had no idea how she was supposed to respond. Her relationships had always been complicated, but this was a different kind of complication.

_Fuck._

Tipsy, but not overly drunk, she stood. The fur coat was starting to piss her off a little, so she dumped it back on its hanger.

Outside the coat room, it was a little cooler, but Gail was flushed from both the alcohol and the kiss. Joining the rest of the reception party, she found Steve leaning against the wall, eating what she assumed was a giant lollipop.

'Where's your girlfriend?' he asked, casually. Gail started. Steve knew her, probably better than anyone else, but he couldn't know something that she didn't know herself.

'What?'

'Where's your friend? She works down in the morgue, right? Polly, or something?'

'Holly,' Gail said. 'She had to go, so now I'm stuck back out here with all the boring people.' Steve grinned.

'They're only boring because you let them be boring,' he told her. 'Me, on the other hand – I like to enjoy life. Take this cake lollipop for example—'

'Yeah, Steve, you've reached peak velocity boring now, so I'm gonna leave.'

'You know that doesn't work on me, kid, so don't even try it.'

Gail rolled her eyes. '"Kid?"' she repeated. '_Really_? I'm twenty-six, Steve.'

'You're still a rookie, so you're still a kid. That's the rules.'

Gail snorted. 'Yeah, right.' She left Steve to the food table, knowing that she wouldn't be missed if she went home now. The last thing she needed was for Collins and McNally to show up and make things weirder than they already were.

Outside, the air was fresh. Her coat (the one she'd brought with her, not the faux fur thing that she'd borrowed from the coat room) wasn't quite warm enough to keep out the chill.

On anticipation of being too drunk to drive home, Gail had caught a cab to the wedding. She hadn't had enough champagne to even consider herself tipsy, so she decided to walk for a while. She needed to clear her head, and figure out what the hell had happened in there (and more importantly, how she felt about it).

After everything that had happened, there was definitely still a part of her that loved Nick. Even though he'd left her twice, even though she'd cheated on him, he'd been the first person she'd ever really_ loved_.

If he hadn't fallen for McNally, she figured they would have been able to work things out. But then, given that the only reason she'd cheated in the first place was because he'd fallen for McNally, it was a moot point. She was pissed, and she hated herself, but she liked Holly, even if she was still sort of caught up in "Nick" feelings. It was a complete clusterfuck of emotion that she, quite frankly, didn't have time for.

God. The way things went, sometimes she forgot they had a _job _to do on top of everything else.

The night of the break-up, she'd walked for hours, alternating between being angry at him, and being angry at herself. It hadn't helped, of course, that she still had Perik on her mind. The shadow of his touch against her skin, the voice that still gave her nightmares every other night. He had torn her life apart, in more ways than one.

Tonight was different.

Tonight, she walked for a little over three hours, heels in one hand, clutch purse stowed in an inside pocket. By chance, or because her brain was wired to always make her way back there, she found herself a few blocks away from the station. Generally, she tried to avoid coming in to work off shift. It was late (Early?) and she had some trainers in her locker for when she wanted to hit the gym after everyone else had gone home. Gail shoved her heels in the locker, and pulled on the trainers. It would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than walking home barefoot.

When she reached a crossroads, she thought for a few moments, and then turned left. The morgue was a little over a mile away from the station; far enough that they usually used a courier to transport paperwork, rather than have things walked over.

The guy at the desk buzzed her in without question, which probably said something about the number of times she'd come over to visit Holly in the last couple of weeks.

'Are you always here so early?' Holly looked up from the autopsy table when Gail entered the room. Gail was pretty sure she was looking at somebody's lungs.

'Well, I was still a little pumped after dancing, so I came back here.' Underneath the lab coat, she was wearing the same outfit she'd had on at the wedding.

'You haven't been home yet.' It was a statement, not a question. It was a little after four a.m. Holly apparently didn't feel then need to point out that _Gail_ hadn't been home either.

'I had some stuff I wanted to work on. The bodies don't go anywhere, but I don't like it when we have to start double-stacking.'

Gail stared at her. If Holly was going to brush off her bitchiness, then Gail was sure as hell going to leave her…_weirdness_ alone.

'Do you want to get a drink?' she said, before she even knew what she was doing. Holly raised an eyebrow.

'A drink, or a _drink_?'

Gail had no idea what she was doing.

No. She _did_ know what she was doing. She was forcefully dragging the ball back into her court. She wasn't going to let Holly continue to dictate the course of their…whatever it was. If this was going to turn into something complicated, then Gail was sure as hell going to be the person to take it there.

'A _drink_,' Gail said, careful that her intonation was different from either of the options Holly had provided. The truth was, she had no idea, but she wanted – she needed – to figure out where the hell her head was at. She needed to figure out what Holly wanted.

More importantly, Gail needed to figure out what _she_ wanted.

…

'When you asked if I wanted to get a drink, I didn't realise you meant "milkshakes."' The diner was a few blocks away from 15, which meant that there wasn't likely to be anyone she knew coming in to buy food. It wasn't that she was ashamed, or embarrassed (and maybe that fact alone said something about how she felt). It was more that she didn't want anyone butting their nose in where it didn't belong.

'I can't get doughnuts at a bar,' Gail said, taking a bite of the pastry in her hand.

Holly did that thing she always seemed to do, and smiled without saying anything. Gail might have found it disconcerting, but she _liked_ Holly's smile. It made her feel good inside. Maybe it was because she wasn't rolling her eyes, or shaking her head, or giving the "_Really, Gail?_" look that so many other people did.

When the silence started to get awkward, she asked the question that had been weighing on her since the previous night. It was the question that she should have asked straight away, but had never quite gotten around to. 'Why did you kiss me?'

'Well it seemed like a good idea at the time.'

'That's not an answer.'

'Do you really_ need_ an answer?' Holly asked, and Gail found herself suddenly infuriated. Holly might have been one of those people that lived life in the moment, and didn't need reasons for going out dancing all night on a whim, but Gail wasn't, so yeah, she really _did_ need an answer.

'_Yes_.'

'I kissed you because I'd been drinking, and because you look sexy as hell in that dress. Even if I'd never wear it myself.'

Gail had no idea how to respond to that. It was though she'd been expecting some vastly complicated answer; that it couldn't have just been a simple case of alcohol-fueled lust.

'So you don't…you aren't?' Gail struggled to find the words.

'I'm not head over heels in love with you?' Holly took a sip of her coffee. 'Give me a few months. We'll see.' This, she followed up with a raise of the eyebrow that was blatantly suggestive.

That, Gail was even less sure how to respond to. _You _knew_ she liked women when you asked her to a _wedding. _You don't think that sends some kind of signal?_

It wasn't that she didn't find women attractive. It was just that there was a difference between finding people attractive, and dating them, and Gail did not have a single clue how to date a woman. If Holly's earlier comments were any indication, apparently it was pretty much exactly the same, but with more breasts.

'I need…I don't know. Things are really kind of weird right now, and I don't know what I want,' Gail admitted. It was about half a step above freaking out, screwing everything up and running like a bat out of hell. She was almost proud of herself.

'Gail, this can be whatever you want it to be. Like I said, I'm trying new things. If that means hanging out at a diner at four thirty in the morning eating a hot dog, then I'm okay with that.'

'Okay.' Gail nodded. 'Okay.' She paused. 'I just want to see…' She leaned over and pressed a long, slow kiss to Holly's lips.

This time, she was able to appreciate it properly. Holly's lips were soft, but a little dry. She needed to reapply her lip gloss. Her breath tasted and smelled like minty coffee. Chris' kisses had either been too passive, or too over-eager, whereas Nick's kisses had been overly self-assured. Holly's were confident, but also flexible. She didn't take charge of the kiss, but neither was she an inactive participant.

'You taste nice,' Gail murmured, when she finally pulled away. Her heart was thumping, and she had no idea whether or not she'd made a huge mistake.

But then, given everything else that had happened this month, maybe trying new things wasn't such a bad idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

'Coming to the Penny?' Dov asked.

'No,' Gail answered, without even thinking about it. She knew what would happen if she went out tonight; she'd come for a drink, maybe staying just long enough that they wouldn't get overly suspicious. She'd try (and fail) to temper the angry glances thrown in Nick and Andy's direction, and ignore Traci's questions about what was bothering her. She'd come home angry, keep drinking, and wake up with the world's worst hangover.

Gail had distanced herself from the group as much for their benefit as her own. She knew whose side they would take, after all. As much as she hated Nick for what he had done, she knew her own transgressions had been far worse.

'Gail, is everything okay?' His tone was one of an almost impatient sort of concern, as if he knew that whatever answer that came out of her would be a lie.

'Yes.' Her response was terse, and, admittedly, a little bitchy. 'It's been a long week,' she said, which really wasn't a lie. Her life was at the point where they _all _felt like long weeks, because being at work seemed to make her permanently pissed. 'I just want to stay home and relax.' _That_ was a lie, and Dov wasn't stupid enough to fall for it; he _was_ smart enough to let it go, though. He left with a brief glance backwards. Gail ignored it.

The door clicked shut, and she was grateful to be alone. When she was alone, she didn't have to pretend like she didn't care. She could take off her pants, and sit on the couch eating Cheese Puffs and watching shitty horror movies in peace.

But even that lost its charm after the first half of _Evil Dead 2. _Her mind kept wandering – had Nick and Andy sealed the deal yet? Were they, at this very moment, on their way to Vegas? Was he telling her that she was everything he wanted in a woman?

_Ugh_. The whole thing made her sick. She hated that she still cared. She hated that she hadn't been enough, because she had _never_ been enough, for anyone. More than anything, she wanted to push it out of her mind, but that wouldn't happen when she was lying around the house watching T.V.

Her phone was sitting on the kitchen bench, charging. She tapped out a text message, without looking up.

_I'm bored._

It was about ten minutes before a reply came, and when it did, Gail had to read it twice before she fully processed it.

_**How much do you like body parts?**_

_Um…a normal amount? Are they attached to anything?_

_**Meet me at the morgue**_, was Holly's cryptic answer. Gail wasn't entirely sure she wasn't about to become the victim of another serial killer. But no. Inviting Gail along to look at body parts was exactly the kind of _weird_ thing that Holly would do.

Based on the assumption that she may or may not end up elbow deep in intestines, Gail dressed down, which suited her just fine, because she didn't really feel like changing anyway.

'Oh, good; I was getting to the fun stuff,' said Holly, without looking up, when Gail walked into the morgue half an hour later. 'Grab some gloves.'

'You called me in because you wanted _help_?' Gail said, somewhat bemused.

That, Holly looked up at. Her eyebrow quirked slightly, and Gail's stomach gave a jolt. 'Give me a little credit. I called you because I won't be finished for another hour, and I know you get impatient. But as long as you're here, it wouldn't hurt for you to learn a few things.' She opened a cabinet at the corner of the room and pulled out a lab coat. 'Here.'

Gail fumbled the catch, but managed to bend down and pick the coat off the floor without further incident. Holly gave a smirk, which Gail chose to ignore.

'You don't think I know enough?' Gail asked, as she shrugged on the coat. Holly handed her a pair of clear-lensed goggles, and then the box of nitrile gloves.

'Well I _could_ make a comment about the general lack of crime scene preservation amongst police officers, but I won't. Be careful, those'll make your hands smell like gunk.'

'Better than making them smell like corpses.' Gail shrugged.

'You haven't smelled the gunk yet,' Holly grinned. Almost cautiously, Gail took a sniff of the gloves, but she couldn't detect anything. She vaguely wondered whether Holly was trying to trick her.

For the most part, she watched, as Holly sliced open the dead guy. Gail leaned against the bench, watching intently. People generally seemed to think that she was unintelligent, and she made no efforts to correct that misapprehension. It seemed easier.

'Here.' Holly gestured, and Gail peered over. 'Put this on the scales.' Gail put her hand out, and before she could even react, Holly had passed her a human kidney.

'Am I even technically allowed to be doing this?' Gail asked, suspicious that the answer was a clear-cut "no." 'One thirty-six grams.'

'You don't need a medical degree to weigh an organ,' Holly laughed. 'But don't worry. It's not like I'm just letting you at it with a scalpel.' Gail pouted, and gave Holly a puppy-dog eyes look. She kind of really wanted to use the scalpel now.

'Fine,' Holly sighed. 'Not this one though. Somehow I don't think that'll play well in court.' She gave a small frown, as though thinking. 'Okay, close your eyes.'

'I don't do surprises,' Gail said bluntly, but she closed them nonetheless. For almost ten minutes, she heard a lot of slamming, cluttering, and if she wasn't mistaken, muttered cursing.

'You should probably change your gloves,' Holly said, from somewhere near Gail's left.

'I can't _see_,' Gail protested.

'You call that an excuse?' Holly's voice was just inches away, and Gail had to force herself not to jump as hands touched hers. The gloves were stripped off efficiently, and replaced with new ones. 'Okay. You can open your eyes.'

Gail opened them, and the first thing she saw was a dead pig lying on the autopsy table. 'Seriously? Is this supposed to be some kind of dig at me?'

Holly raised an eyebrow. 'Would I do such a thing?' She passed the scalpel over, handle first. 'We don't exactly have an endless supply of human cadavers to practice on. Pigs are good for when we want to test things out. You ready?'

Gail nodded.

'Okay…Start here…and now move downwards at an angle towards the centre of the chest.' By the time they'd finished, "another hour" had turned into three hours, and Gail passed a pig heart (that didn't seem to be all that much smaller than a human heart) back and forth between her hands.

'I do love blood and guts,' Gail said. She abandoned the pig heart, and started twirling the scalpel between bloody, gloved fingers. She looked sideways at Holly, who was staring. '_What_?'

Holly shook her head, and smiled. 'Nothing,' she said. 'It's just…you sound _happy_.'

'What, I'm not allowed to like things?'

'It's the first time you've given any suggestion of it.'

'I like things!' Gail protested. 'Like food…and alcohol…' She paused, struggling to think of something else. 'Guns. Horror movies. Shoes.'

'So bodies are just the clear next step.'

'Naturally.' Gail bent down, and peered at the open cavity of the pig's chest. She resisted the urge to poke it.

'Maybe you should have gone into forensics,' Holly said. It was almost an aside, but Gail considered the point.

It was a little sad that she considered it a viable alternative. Her job would have been so much easier if she didn't have to talk to people. Didn't have to give a shit what they thought about her, or be upset when they inevitably decided she wasn't worth their time. She found it easier to hate than to love, and that was the saddest thing of all.

'I would've been disowned,' Gail said, her voice a bitter laugh. It wasn't entirely true; her parents would have been disappointed, but they would have come around eventually, even if it meant they were less proud of her than they were of Steve (but then, that was always going to be the case; after all, people _liked _Steve). At least, she told them several times a year, she hadn't gone into drug dealing. 'So. Second date. Pig autopsy. Very classy.' Gail regretted the words immediately after she'd spoken. Not because it might have sounded critical – she didn't really care about that – but because she didn't want to make any assumptions about what it was or wasn't. She tore off the gloves, and nearly puked at the smell on her hands.

'Well given that the first one was a_ wedding_, I figured I had to shake things up a bit,' Holly said. 'But if you want something a little more conventional, it's not even midnight – we've got time for something else.'

'Think we could hock this thing for bacon?'

'Only if you know of a black market pork dealer within walking distance.'

'I've got an idea,' Gail said, feeling a grin creep onto her face. 'But we're gonna have to get _really_ drunk.'

…

Holly stared at the sign. 'I wouldn't have picked you for a karaoke fan.'

'Well that's just one of my dirty little secrets.'

'I can't wait to find out the rest.' Her tone, while amused, was also sincere. If it had been someone else, Gail might have rolled her eyes. With Holly, part of her _wanted_ to impart those dirty little secrets (even though they weren't really as dirty as some people seemed to think).

They started with wedges and beer, and moved on pretty quickly to tequila. Anything less meant it would have taken hours to get drunk enough to even _consider_ getting up on stage and singing _Total Eclipse of the Heart_.

Two a.m. (after a lot of alcohol, and a _lot_ of fun) saw them by the cab rank, sharing more than a slight peck on the cheek.

'Do you want to… ?' Holly started, and Gail's heart skipped a beat. She had no idea why, but she was suddenly terrified. Maybe it was because the last person she'd slept with had pretty much brokenher. 'You know, what, never mind,' Holly said quickly, and she turned her head. Gail was almost surprised to see her cheeks red from more than just the alcohol.

'No it's not…I mean, I do, but I…'

'Right,' Holly nodded.

'I'm sorry,' Gail said, quickly, and made her escape before she could embarrass herself even further. Her heart was still pumping fast when she walked inside the front door an hour later.

'Fuck,' she muttered, slumping onto the couch. '_Fuck_.'

Half the time she was with Holly, her mind was on Nick and Andy. When they were doing things, she was fine, but when there was a moment of near intimacy, or when the conversation slowed, it all came hurtling back. It was something about that innate fear of being hurt again. It had happened with Chris, and it had happened with Nick. She would have given anything to scrub her memory clean with a gallon of bleach; to forget, or even to just not care.

More than anything else, she wanted to move on with her life, even if she did keep screwing it up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The phone was mocking her.

It was something that it seemed to do on a daily basis, along with most of the other inanimate objects on her life. Because there was nothing more sobering than having the refrigerator tell you just how much of an idiot you've been.

Suddenly, the phone started buzzing, jerking Gail from her partial-insanity filled reverie. She grabbed for it instantly, and then let out a full-body groan. Her shoulders slumped as she hit "Accept." If she didn't pick up, then the phone would be ringing off the hook for the next two hours.

'Hi Mom.' The groan didn't quite reach her voice, but she was sure her mother would heard it anyway.

'_Gail, sweetie, how are you?_'

'I'm fine,' Gail started, and that was about the extent of the words that she managed to get in before her mother completely overtook the conversation. It started with the thinly veiled disappointment concerning Gail's career progression (or lack thereof), and ended with her mother setting her up with some guy she'd never even met.

'_He's a _lovely_ boy. I'm sure you'll get along just fine._'

'Mom—' The Superintendent had hung up before Gail could even argue. Before she could say "I'm sort of seeing someone, but I think I fucked it up."

She agreed to coffee, because she knew that she wouldn't last through anything longer. If he was mildly interesting, then…well, it would probably take her mind off of things.

"Horrifying" didn't quite begin to cover it. She had absolutely no idea why her mother thought she might get along with a medieval literatures major that couldn't even recognise a Robin Hood reference. Just the thought of letting him touch her kind of skeeved Gail out. Maybe she was growing.

The next time she saw Holly, neither of them brought up their previous meeting; given the importance of the case they were working on, there was no time for awkwardness.

By the time they finished up for the day, it was late. Chloe had been all _nice_, and Traci _still_ wouldn't go out with Steve (Gail wouldn't have cared so much if he would just stop bitching to her about it).

'Everyone deserves to be happy, Gail. Even you,' Traci said, and Gail was pretty sure she didn't have any idea how apropos the words really were.

_Fuck it_, she decided. _Life was way too short to not grab things by the horns._

Her fingers tapped out the first three letters of Holly's name automatically.

'Hey. What are you doing tonight?'

…

'I'm leaving, 'Gail said, but she was laughing as she said it, so Holly knew she wasn't really serious. She set the batting helmet down on the ground, as she leaned against the wire of the cage. 'Remind me why you thought this was a good idea again?'

'Because I figured you probably get sick of shooting targets while you're at work. And we already did "pig autopsy."'

'And dinner was too _normal_ for you? Why baseball? Why _sports_?'

Holly moved to lean against the cage beside her. 'You came, didn't you?'

'Well I _had _to; your car was in the shop.'

Holly rolled her eyes. That was quite possibly the worst excuse she had ever heard. But given the way Gail reacted to some things, she wasn't exactly surprised that denial was the first port of call.

'I don't think you hate sports at all. I think you hate people thinking that you might have actually tried doing something.'

Gail didn't speak straight away, which was pretty much a confirmation in itself.

'If they think you don't try, then it's not as big of a deal when you fail,' she said, finally.

'So you'd rather they don't respect you, than have them think that you can't do something.' Gail gave a small half-shrug. Holly shook her head. 'And you think _I'm _weird.'

'You _are_ weird,' Gail said. 'With your…glasses, and your hair.'

'Right. So do you want to try again? Maybe prove everybody else wrong?'

'Fine.' Gail drew out the word with a dramatic sigh, but Holly could tell she was determined to make a point.

'Want some pointers?'

'I don't _need_ pointers,' Gail said, defiantly. Five seconds later, after she'd accidentally put her helmet on backwards, she conceded that maybe she did.

'You're not standing on the plate, so don't be afraid the ball's going to hit you. Just relax. Being tense will definitely not help.'

'If it's not going to hit me, then why am I wearing a helmet?' Gail demanded.

'Because a pitcher isn't always as accurate as a pitching machine.' The answer didn't seem to instil her with any confidence, but then, Holly doubted any answer would.

She stepped back, and hit the button again. The first ball, Gail missed completely. Holly bit her lip to avoid laughing as the other woman spun on the spot.

'Oh, you think this is funny, do you? Are you some kind of sadist?'

'If I was a sadist, I would've taken you bowling.'

'I _hate_ bowling.' Gail swung again, this time the ball cracked the center of the bat. She had completely ignored the direction to "relax," and Holly could practically hear the shock reverberating.

'Ow!' Gail stepped backwards, and dropped the bat. 'Was _that_ supposed to happen?'

Holly pressed the button to stop the machine. 'Come here,' she said, by way of an answer, and brought Gail back to the plate. 'Take off your helmet.'

Gail tossed the helmet to the ground, and stood with her arms crossed. She was pouting. Holly turned her to face the side of the cage. 'Knees bent. Not too low, just a little bit. Spread your legs a little more.'

'Yeah, because I don't ever hear _that_ from my dates.'

Holly laughed. 'Well I promise I won't be trying to get into your pants tonight.'

'Well _that's _just insulting.' Holly had intended her words as a joke (okay, so maybe she was trying to test the waters a _little_ bit), but Gail's reaction was still more positive than it had been the last time they'd almost…But no. Holly wasn't going to get her hopes up. She was happy to have a friend.

'Okay, tilt your foot a little. No, here—' She took the other woman's calf in a firm grip, and turned it slightly. 'Comfortable?'

Gail stared at her.

Holly handed her the bat. 'You want your grip to be not too tight, not too loose. Like you're holding a bird. Once again, her grip was too tight. 'I'm just gonna…' She stepped behind Gail, and brought her hands to the grip of the bat. Gail's hair smelled a little like sweat, thanks to the helmet, but Holly could sense just a hint of shampoo beneath it. 'Feel how I'm holding it?'

'Have you ever seen _Ghost_?'

_Okay, _that_ wasn't a suggestive comment at all._

'Fortunately for you, I am not Patrick Swayze. Okay. Elbows bent.' Gail brought her elbows up. She was surprisingly compliant.

'And…swing.' Holly directed the bat into a hit. 'Make sure you follow through, or you won't get any power. Don't follow through too hard, or you'll end up hitting yourself with the bat. Okay?'

'Okay,' Gail breathed, and Holly let go. She picked up the dropped helmet, and passed it over. Gail put it on with far more confidence than she had the first time.

'Ready?'

'Ready,' Gail said. There was still a slight waver in her voice, but Holly hit the button anyway.

The ball shot out of the machine, and towards the plate. Gail's stance had shifted slightly, but she hit it with a resounding _crack_. A much nicer crack than the first one had been. The crack of a half-decent hit.

Gail dropped the bat for a third time, though this time she accompanied it with a loud cheer. 'I did it!' Her tone was one of elated surprise.

Laughing, Holly turned off the machine; it was becoming evident that having had her one success, Gail was not planning on hitting any more balls. She pulled off her helmet, and grinned at Holly.

'You're right, it is kinda cathartic.'

'You hit one ball.'

'Well this past week I've been on the verge of kicking _two_ balls, so I'm gonna take it. You want to grab some food?'

'Sounds good,' Holly agreed.

'I know a place,' was all Gail said, as she pulled out of the parking lot. Since the batting cage had been her idea, Holly was willing to let the other women pick a place to eat. Somehow, she was pretty sure they weren't going to be hitting anything classier than a _Denny's_.

They drove in silence for a few minutes before Gail blurted out what had clearly been on her mind since they'd left. 'We almost…you know, and then you say you don't want to get in my pants? Isn't that kind of a mixed message?'

'Gail, I don't even_ know _what kind of messages _you're_ sending. You say you're straight, and then you asked me to a wedding. We kind of start _doing_ things, and then I _still _don't know what it is you want. I'm sending mixed messages, because I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do.'

'I kind of want a milkshake,' said Gail, but her tone was pensive. Holly was smart enough not to say anything. Beneath that shell was a person who was far more fragile that she was willing to let on. The slightest push in the wrong direction could send her running.

They stopped at an all-night diner with a broken neon light, and windows that looked as though they hadn't seen a squeegee in several decades.

Gail ordered a chocolate milkshake, and curly fries with aioli. 'No ketchup?' Holly asked, smile quirking at the corner of her lips. She'd ordered herself a coffee, knowing that anything else would no doubt settle uncomfortably in her stomach.

'Can't,' Gail said, with a look that was almost akin to disgust. 'I'm allergic to tomatoes.'

'Well, I guess that means you'll have to be extra careful if they ever revolt against mankind.' Gail choked on her milkshake, which quickly turned to a snort of laughter.

'You are…' Gail shook her head. 'I don't know if I can_ be_ a lesbian.'

'Dating a woman doesn't automatically make you a lesbian,' Holly said, amused. 'It's not a switch that you flip back and forth. Pick your own labels. You can call yourself whatever the hell you want.'

Gail gave a surprised sort of look, as if she hadn't even considered that option. 'I don't know what I want. In terms of…us. I know I want to be myself, and for some reason, that's a whole lot easier with you than it's ever been with anyone else. So I guess what I'm trying to say is…' She pushed her paper cup aside, and leaned across the table. Her lips were soft, and she kissed Holly like she wasn't entirely sure how to.

'You're a dork, you know that?' Holly grinned.

'Okay, first I'm insane, now I'm a dork? Got anything else up your sleeve?'

'Alright. Attractive, abrasive, and right now, sexy as hell.'

Gail gave her a look, and it was as though someone had lit a fire inside of her. 'Would you like to revise your previous statement about not wanting to get inside my pants?'

'I think I do.'

Gail pulled out her purse, and left a fifty. Her fries were still half uneaten. 'You can find a way to pay me back,' she said, in a matter-of-fact tone. Holly did not have to think too hard about what that meant.

Gail was surprisingly chipper as they walked back to the car. 'Are you a screamer? Because I really want to annoy your neighbors.' Holly pulled Gail towards her, and kissed her firmly. Gail reciprocated in kind.

'Wow,' Gail murmured under her breath, and her smile was the most beautiful thing that Holly had ever seen.

* * *

A/N: Deleted adult scenes, Y/N?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Gail stared at the blank, hospital wall. The Doctor was talking to her, but she wasn't really listening. If she looked at him, she knew she'd end up staring at the weird mole on the corner of his lip.

'Officer Peck?' She turned to see he was handing her a prescription. She shoved it into her pocket without looking at it.

'You should be good to go now,' he told her. 'Just check up with your GP in a couple of days to make sure it's healing properly.'

'Right,' Gail said, not really listening to what he was saying. Her wrist notwithstanding, the double shift had taken a lot out of her, and she mostly just wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, that involved actually _leaving_ the hospital.

Since her cell phone was off, she went to the phone beside the hospital bed, and dialled Holly's number by heart.

'_You've got Holly._'

'You busy?'

'_That depends. It's a little early in the day for a hook-up, isn't it_?'

Gail frowned, and checked her watch. 'It's eight p.m_._'

'_Huh. So it is. I guess that's probably too late to do my grocery shopping, isn't it?_'

'Well, if you feel like going out, I actually need a ride.'

'_Don't tell me you got drunk without me_.' Gail bit back a laugh. If only.

'No, but I did have a nice Oxy trip.'

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. '_Do I want to know?_'

'I'm at the hospital. I had an accident with some industrial drain cleaner at a grow op.'

Holly didn't miss a beat. '_So you're clumsy even on the job?_' She sounded slightly concerned, but mostly amused.

'Very funny. It actually really hurt, and the drugs are starting to wear off.'

'_I can be there in ten minutes_.'

_I love you, _Gail almost said, but caught herself just in time. She could've seen how it might've been taken out of context, when really, she just wanted to get the hell out of there. It was hard to dress one-handed; even harder, given the fact that her fingers were a little numb.

Apart from Andy's completely unsurprising confession, Gail still wasn't entirely sure what had happened on what had been an almost magical hour-long Oxycodone trip. She was almost disappointed when her doctor had told her that she could probably manage something a little less potent from here on out. Still, he'd been nice enough to give her one last dose before she left, which meant she was still a little high, but she was high enough to know that she was high, and that was the important part.

Andy was waiting in the hallway, and Gail really, really just wanted her to be somewhere else. She was tired, and she was sore, and she was pissed, and she didn't want anyone's pity or apologies, least of all coming from the person that was sleeping with her ex-boyfriend.

The conversation was just as painful, and as awkward as she knew it was going to be. Gail so desperately wanted not to care. She wanted to just tell them to be happy, and to move on with her life, but she couldn't. So she said some things she knew she'd regret later, and walked away.

'Hey.' Holly had clearly been watching the conversation, but made no mention of it, or of the tears in Gail's eyes.

'Hey. Let's get out of here.' The hospital walls were closing in on her. All the drama, all the…everything of the last few days was starting to catch up. She just wanted to lie down, close her eyes, and sleep for the next ten years or so.

They took a detour through the attached pharmacy to fill her prescription, which was another annoying obstacle on her journey to sleep.

'So a grow op, huh?' Holly asked, as they stepped out into the parking lot.

'Yeah, it was a very exciting day.' Gail's reply was a little dry, and probably a lot bitchier than she'd intended. 'You'd think people keeping an eye on three dozen pot plants would screw their drain cleaner lids on properly.

'Let me have a look.' Holly managed to walk and do her doctor thing at the same time, but she stopped short of tearing off the bandage.

'You have a second opinion?'

'Well, you don't have rigor mortis.'

'Right. Probably shouldn't be asking the person that looks at corpses for a living.'

'Given that they let you out so quickly, it's probably not too bad. You didn't dip your whole arm in the stuff, so you should be fine. This is me.' She stopped beside a silver sedan.

'Good to know.' Gail leaned against the side of Holly's car. 'You drive an Audi? Really?'

'Do you have a problem with German engineering?'

'I have a problem with assholes in Audis.'

'I'm sure the fact that you change lanes without indicating has nothing to do with it.'

Gail chose to ignore that comment, not least of all because she was too tired to think of a witty comeback. Instead, she reveled in the comfort of leather seats. It was ridiculously comfortable, and Gail was very, very tempted to just fall asleep.

'So where exactly is the chauffeur service taking you tonight?'

Gail frowned. She hadn't actually thought about that part.

_Home_ was the first answer that came to mind, but it didn't really feel all that appealing. The station was even less appealing, because she knew that's where Andy and Nick would be. She'd stayed with her parents in the aftermath of the Perik thing, but even that was more pain than it was worth.

'Tell you what,' Holly said, without taking her eyes off the road. 'Do you want to stay at my place?'

Gail froze. Wow, that was not the kind of question she could answer right now. 'I don't have a toothbrush with me,' she said, by way of an answer.

Holly smirked. 'I have a spare.' There was a pause. 'But if you don't want to stay, that's fine. It's just that I figured you might want some space from your roommates.'

It wasn't an entirely inaccurate assessment. Chris had moved back in, and Chloe was staying the night more often than not, which meant there were four people living in a place that was better suited to two. She could barely deal with Chloe's chipperness when she was at full strength; she didn't want to try and handle it when she was recovering from skeezy grow-op chemical burns.

In any case, Holly's apartment was much larger than the Casa de (until recently) Peckstein shoebox.

'You better make me breakfast,' Gail grumbled, and that was the last thing she remembered until morning.

…

Holly's spare bed was awesome.

That was Gail's first thought when she woke the next morning, followed by, _my wrist is killing me_, and then, _how the hell did I get here?_

Her uniform had been torn off haphazardly, and thrown onto the chair in the corner of the room. She had a brief moment of panic before she found her service weapon in the drawer of the nightstand. She'd get into a ridiculous amount of trouble for that, but after the day she'd had yesterday, she wasn't in a mood to care.

The stronger drugs seemed to have worn off overnight, but she still felt the side effects. Really, on the whole, she almost preferred the wrist pain. That, at least, was predictable. The side effects of painkillers usually just hit her like a sledgehammer of…shittiness.

Ok, so words weren't exactly her friend while she was wallowing in semi drug-addled self-pity. Still, now that she was buzzed again, whatever Andy had said felt a lot less important than it had last night.

So what if Andy and Nick were doing…ew. She didn't really want to think about what they were doing, but she had the day off and they didn't, so it sucked to be them anyway.

She _wanted_ not to care. She wanted to just walk away, and not let their happiness affect her. But that was impossible; the happiness they had was the happiness that she wanted, that she'd _needed_ with Nick. She thought that she'd had it, right up to the point where he left her. Right up to the point where he came home in love with someone else.

Really, though, she wouldn't have been so pissed off if Andy hadn't been so…so _Andy_ about the whole thing. But no. She needed to stop thinking about it, because the whole damn thing was making her feel more nauseous than any medication could.

She found Holly in the kitchen, making coffee. 'It's ten o'clock,' Gail said, by way of greeting. 'Shouldn't you be at work?'

'I took the day off,' Holly said, and Gail had no idea how to respond to that. Since she was such a rookie at the whole "relationship with another woman" thing, they'd been taking things slowly. She wasn't even entirely sure what she _wouldn't _call what they had, let alone what she would. Something like a "friends with benefits" thing, only more friends, less benefits. At least, that was probably how Holly felt, given that Gail was still trying to figure out how to do things.

'How did I…?'

'You were awake enough to put yourself to bed,' Holly said, in what was apparently her attempt at a reassuring voice. It wasn't that Gail _cared_ exactly, but there was a big difference in the level of intimacy between sex and sleeping in the same bed with someone. Gail was of the opinion that the former was a lot less…_intimate_ than the latter, and it was a bridge that they hadn't quite crossed yet. 'How're you feeling?'

Gail rubbed her eyes. She knew that Holly was talking about more than just the wrist, but at the same time, she had no idea how the hell to answer that question.

Holly, to her credit, didn't push the point, though it didn't take a genius to figure it out (and given the number of qualifications Gail had seen on the office wall last time she was here, Holly was at least forty IQ points ahead of her). Instead, she made chocolate-chip waffles with bacon (she'd wanted to make something a little less vomit inducing, but Gail had vetoed that idea), and put on _Kill Bill_ (Gail knew that Holly didn't really like waffles _or_ Quentin Tarantino. "I _do_ like Quentin Tarantino," Holly said, when Gail brought it up later. "I just think he's done better.") Gail curled up on the couch, with a fleecy blanket that had definitely seen better days.

When she vomited everything up an hour later, sleep was once more starting to look like a good idea. 'I'm sleeping now,' she told Holly matter-of-factly, and pulled the blanket up over herself. Holly's couch was pretty comfortable, but then Gail figured that a forensic pathologist probably made a hell of a lot more than a still sort of rookie cop. It was the kind of thing that made her think that really, by this point in her life, she should have been something more.

Really, though, that wasn't a "today" kind of problem.

Her sleep was short, fitful, and plagued by some seriously fucked up dreams.

Zombies ate her face, lions tore out her hair, and dragons stole her shoes. Gail wasn't sure whether she should be worried, or intrigued by the way her brain reacted to some things.

'Yeah, codeine will do that to you sometimes,' Holly said, when Gail mentioned the dreams. She set a plate of dry toast on the coffee table.

'Well screw that,' Gail muttered. 'I think I'd prefer to deal with the pain.' She made a mental note to flush the pills the first chance she got.

'Is there any room on there for me?'

'I guess you could be my pillow or something.' Gail feigned exasperation, and shifted her body slightly so that Holly could sit down. 'Wow, your lap is super-comfy.'

'It's the faux velvet sweats,' Holly told her. Another time, Gail might have wrinkled her nose at the thought of faux velvet sweats (she wore them herself sometimes, but that was her; she'd expected Holly to be less…whatever), but at that point, she was kind of hungry. Dry toast would have to do.

A short beeping sound, and a sudden vibration jerked her to alertness. Her thumb hovered, ready to delete as she unlocked her phone, but thankfully it was not from Andy.

_Your brother is an asshole, FYI. _Gail grinned. The fact that Traci was calling her brother an asshole only meant good things. She quickly sent back a reply, suddenly aware of how difficult it was to text left-handed.

_Well where do you think _I_ got it from?_

They had a brief conversation over text, where Gail gave an update on her physical status (but not her mental one), and in return, Traci filled her in on how the case had resolved (leaving out, Gail was sure, some details involving Steve).

_Penny tonight?_

Gail stared at the phone. Before she could think of how to politely decline, another message came through.

_Andy won't be there._

_Fiiiine_, Gail replied, making sure her perceived annoyance was well documented. 'I'm going to head out tonight,' she told Holly. 'To the Penny. Did you uh…did you want to come?' She knew there was hesitation in her voice, and Holly noticed it, too.

'Gail, if you don't want to tell them yet, you don't have to. I'm not upset. It's not something you want to push.'

'I'm not…ashamed. I just…I don't want people to think this is some kind of rebound, "cry for help" kind of thing.' As accepting as her friends purported themselves to be, this wasn't something that they could understand. They couldn't know the pain, the emptiness she had felt after facing down Perik. They couldn't know how easy it was, or how happy it made her, to be with someone who was a little more like her. At least, in the ways that counted. Gail would never wear a puffy vest by choice.

'It's not, is it?' Holly asked, putting on a tone of mock concern. 'Because I've already started designing the wedding invites.'

'You're a dork,' Gail murmured. She lifted her hand and moved it up behind her head. Holly took hold of it, and rubbed her thumb absent-mindedly. It was…nice.

It was different to what she'd had with Chris, what she'd had with Nick. Simpler, on some levels. Less dramatic. She felt more relaxed.

The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.

This wasn't just a casual thing.

…

Traci pushed the door open, and scanned the room for Gail. Usually, the other woman was sitting at the bar, but tonight, she was in a booth in the back corner of the bar. Her hair was a little unkempt, and her right wrist was bandaged, but she gave a smile when she looked up. The glass of orange juice she was nursing seemed untouched.

'You're not still high, are you?' Traci asked, and Gail's expression quickly turned to a frown.

'Who told you about that?'

'Andy,' was Traci's reply, and it _definitely_ wasn't her imagination when Gail rolled her eyes. There was definitely something going on.

'Yeah, what else did she tell you?'

'Nothing. Look, Gail, if there's something going on, you can talk to me about it.'

'Honestly, yes, but I really do not want to talk about that tonight. It just makes me want to drink.' Traci raised an eyebrow. That was the most she'd gotten from either of them about things, but it still wasn't enough. 'How about you? How was your day? How's Steve?'

Traci laughed. 'Oh, nice. Bring me back to that.' She drummed her fingers against the table, but knew that this was the question she had to answer. 'I think I'm kind of falling for him.'

'Gross.' Gail wrinkled her face in disgust, but she was grinning. 'Now if you actually go_ out_ with him sometime soon, he'll stop bugging me about it.'

'So.' Traci poked her in the arm. 'What about you? Sheriff of Rottingham still on the cards, or have you picked up another poor guy to go on blind dates with?'

Gail didn't answer straight away. She turned her gaze, and ran her thumb around the rim of her glass. 'I think I'm falling for another woman,' she said.

Of all the answers Traci had been expecting, that was down the bottom of the list. 'Ok,' she said, a little stunned. 'Let's talk about that.'

* * *

Author's Note: If you're reading this now, I have put two extra chapters at the front of the story to help it flow a little better. It might screw up some things, but there doesn't seem to be a provision for submitting chapters out of order.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

'Let's talk about that,' said Traci, no small amount of surprise in her voice. Gail frowned. She apparently hadn't exactly planned much past admitting that she might possibly be a little less straight than she'd thought.

'I don't _want_ to talk about it,' she said, not bothering to hide the whine in her voice. Traci raised an eyebrow. It took two and a half margaritas before "not wanting to talk about it" segued straight into "I'm telling you absolutely everything," which was something that Traci was used to by now. Gail did not do the "feelings" thing unless she was drunk, or…no, that was pretty much it. Gail generally played things pretty close to the chest, but Traci knew she divulged a lot more when she'd been drinking, which wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't used it to her advantage more than once.

'You met her…at the wedding. Holly.'

'The forensic pathologist,' Traci said, remembering the tall woman, with long, dark hair. She and Gail had spent half the night dancing like maniacs, and not giving a shit what anyone else thought.

'Yeah.' Gail grinned. It was not something she did often – at least not genuinely. When those teeth were bared, it usually didn't mean good news. Tonight, it did.

'I can tell her that her feet smell like rotten eggs, and she'll just laugh at me. She'll tell me my face…looks like a potato or something, I don't know.'

'You suck at analogies, Gail.' Gail brushed away the criticism.

'I just feel like…people are going to think it's some rebound thing. Like I suffered a bad break-up, and I'm losing mind.'

'Is it?'

'No,' Gail said, a little too quickly, and a little too forcefully for Traci to believe that the thought hadn't been dwelling on her mind. 'I just…I like her. She doesn't make me feel as though I have to be something – someone – different.'

During the months that Andy and Nick had been undercover, Gail and Traci had spent more time together than they had in the past three years put together. It had started off more as a friendship of convenience, and grown into something that Gail apparently disdained slightly less than the other relationships in her life.

Traci knew the truth of it though; she wasn't so blind as to have missed that they'd only _really_ started to become friends after Jerry's death. As though it was some kind of penance. Traci had tried to absolve Gail of those feelings, but it wasn't an easy road – for either of them.

Gail had been distancing herself from the group for weeks now. Traci would have to have been a fool not to notice. Traci Nash was definitely not a fool and she _definitely_ couldn't fail to notice the sudden sadness in her eyes whenever Nick and Andy were around. Tonight, though…tonight, her eyes shone brightly. It was a sort of happiness that Traci had never seen in her before. The sort of happiness you got from someone you could let down all your boundaries with.

'_So_,' said Gail, after Margarita number four. '_Steve_. Tell me all the de-…Actually, no I don't want to hear the details. I'd rather not be scarred for life. Maybe just...' She gesticulated dramatically. 'Tell me generally. You know. On a scale of "oh God, he's a monster," to "he's okay I guess, but not as awesome as his sister."' Traci smiled at that. In all honesty, there wasn't all that much to tell just yet. They'd been on a few dates, sure, but Traci knew that "tell me generally" didn't mean that Gail cared about all the reasons why she _liked _him.

It was after her sixth Margarita, that Gail made the second revelation of the evening (Traci was on her second, because she knew from experience that things would end very badly if she tried to keep pace with Gail). This revelation was slightly less surprising, given that even though Traci had less contact with the rest of the rookies, that didn't mean she wasn't paying attention.

'Nick and Andy are…' Gail made a gesticulating motion with her hands that was even more dramatic than the last. 'Being disgusting,' she finished, in a voice that compounded her distaste for the situation.

'So that's why they're suddenly hanging out so much, huh?' Traci mused, giving Gail the _look_. The look that said "I know there's more you're not telling me."

Gail sneered slightly, but Traci held her stare, and the other woman acquiesced. 'He fell in love with her, while they were undercover, and I…did something vindictive, so we broke up. Whatever they're doing with each other now, I couldn't care less.' The waver in those last few words told Traci that Gail wasn't even remotely close to telling the truth. Traci's silence only seemed to spur Gail on. 'I know whose side you're going to take,' she said, her voice warbling. Gail was definitely drunk as hell, but Traci kind of had the feeling that this was the first time she'd actually articulated these thoughts. 'I cheated, I'm a horrible person, whatever. I've heard it enough from Nick.'

'Nobody thinks you're a horrible person,' Traci said, gently, though, she did admit that they'd all had their doubts at first. 'After something like that, any relationship takes time to recover. Some just…don't.'

'You think I should have tried harder to work things out.'

'I think sometimes you can't work things out. Whatever happens…happens. Sometimes it means that something better is waiting around the corner.'

'It wouldn't bother me so much if I wasn't so _freakishly_ insecure. But then I guess if that was the case, I wouldn't have cheated on him in the first place.'

'Put it this way. You're moving on. You're growing up. You don't have to forget, but you can't let it take over your life, either.' Traci couldn't stop the tears that pressed at the corner of her eyes. Gail was drunk, sure, but not so drunk that she didn't notice.

The evening had suddenly taken on a disheartening tone, and Traci decided that it would probably be best if she cut herself off. The last thing she needed was to start having doubts about Steve.

They split a cab home, and it spoke to Gail's state of mind that she didn't freak out at the idea of being in the back of a cab. In any case, Traci walked Gail to the front door, before foisting her onto a bemused looking Chris, who clearly had a lot more experience at looking after a drunken Gail than she did.

It was still relatively early, and Dex had Leo until Sunday. She wanted – she _needed _– to see Steve. Not because she was doubting herself, but because he made her _happy_.

He picked up on the second ring. 'Wow, you're eager to talk to me.'

'_I don't know what you're talking about. I just happened to be walking past the phone when it rang._'

'Sure,' Traci laughed. 'I just spent half the night getting drunk with your sister.'

'_Gail? She's a lightweight compared to me_.' She could almost _hear_ the smug smile on his face. '_And I have much nicer alcohol_.'

Traci checked her watch.

'I can be there in ten minutes.'


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It took about fifteen seconds for Steve to answer the door. From the look on his face, he'd probably waited to do it to avoid looking too eager. It was very…Peckish of him.

If she wasn't mistaken, he'd gelled his hair, and put on aftershave, too. He leaned against the doorframe, giving a self-satisfied smile.

'Hi.'

'Hey.' Traci returned his smile, and stepped inside. They shared a quick kiss that seemed burdened with the promises of the evening.

'You have fun watching my sister get trashed?' he asked, not even bothering to hide the amused look on his face.

'She's just…going through some stuff.'

'She told you about her girlfriend, huh?' Steve said, knowingly.

Traci stared at him. 'How long have _you_ known?'

'Well they _did_ make out at the wedding.'

'Really?' Traci frowned. _That_, Gail had failed to mention.

'Well, I mean I only know because of my impeccable Detective skills. I don't know what else they could have been doing alone in the coat room. Anyway. Enough about my sister. We all know I'm prettier than her anyway.' Traci wasn't inclined to disagree, even in spite of the smugness.

He led her into the kitchen, where he _definitely_ hadn't set the mood lighting, and the soft jazz playing in the background. The greenest of rookies would have picked up on his intentions for the evening. Not long ago, Traci would have done anything in her power to avoid this. Now…now, she felt like she was ready to be moving on

He poured out two glasses of Glenfiddich. Definitely much classier than margaritas. Apparently Guns and Gangs paid well.

Three and a half glasses later, they were at the door to Steve's bedroom. Traci's shirt was half off, and caught around her shoulders.

Steve put his hand to Traci's neck, and stopped. 'Is this okay? I mean…'

'Oh, so _now_ you feel like going slow,' Traci teased.

'Hey, I was specifically told that if I hurt you, I was going to get murdered, and even though I know she can't take me in a fight I figured I'd try and avoid the hassle.'

'Uh huh.' Traci nodded. She ran her hand up his chest. 'Has anyone ever told you that you're completely full of yourself?'

'Today?' he asked, and made a show of stopping to think about it. 'Just two.' He paused slightly. 'Maybe three.'

'Well I guess it's a good thing I like you the way you are.'

He pulled off his shirt, and threw it across the room. His chest hair was a light reddish blonde, and the skin there was pale and freckled. For a few moments, she let herself just…touch him. He was a little stockier than Jerry had been, and his skin was smoother. Given that he was the first person she had been with since her fiancé's death, she couldn't help but compare them. She hated herself for it – Steve didn't deserve that.

'You okay?' he asked, his hand stroking at her cheek and hair. 'If you don't want to do this, please don't feel as though I'm forcing you into it.'

'If you don't kiss me right now, Steve Peck, I swear to God…'

Steve smiled, and pushed the bedroom door shut behind him.

…

Gail was just starting to drift off when her phone started to beep.

_**So are you coming back tonight?**_

Gail stared at her phone. _Shit._ Somewhere around the sixth drink, she'd kind of forgottenthat she'd been staying with Holly. Well that was just _embarrassing_.

_may hve accidentakly gttoenn waaay too drunk and come back hoem by mistake. _She recognised the typos she was making, but declined to fix them. Her brain was tired, and her body was sore, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Preferably with someone's arms wrapped around her. Why wasn't Holly _here_?

_**Well that does sound like something you would do. Want me to pick you up? **_Gail could almost _hear_ Holly's amusement at her behaviour.

_Nooo. Come heere and keep me warrm._

_**Are you asking me for a booty call?**_

Gail stared at the phone, suddenly unsure of how to answer.

_Yes._

Fifteen minutes later, there was a loud tapping on the window. At first, Gail was wondering what the hell was going on, before her brain managed to catch up. She found Holly standing outside her window, knee deep in hydrangeas.

'Are you seriously trying to sneak in?'

'Well I wasn't sure who was going to be answering the door.'

'You're a dork,' Gail said, plainly, but she did appreciate the discretion. It wasn't that she worried about what Chris might say, but she did want to wait a little while before the whole "telling everyone she was dating a woman," thing. She wrenched the window open, suddenly glad that their landlord was too cheap to put in flyscreen. Grinning, Holly clambered through, seeming to not even touch the sides of the window frame.

If it was Gail, she would have tripped and landed on her ass, even sober. Holly had a more athletic finesse. She landed softly, and gracefully enough that Gail's hands waiting to steady her were pointless.

'Hi,' said Holly, smiling. She looked a little flushed, a little nervous, and a little excited, all at the same time. The sight of the other woman suddenly invigorated Gail. Simply cuddling was no longer an acceptable outcome for the evening.

'Come here,' Gail murmured, and she pulled Holly to the bed by her shirt collar. Their first time, had mostly been Holly doing all the work. This time, Gail felt she needed to reciprocate. Maybe it was the Dutch courage still buzzing through her. 'I don't know if I've told you this, but you are seriously fucking sexy.'

This was "drunk, lets her feelings be known to the world," Gail. 'The first time I saw you,' she continued. 'I couldn't stop staring at your ass.' For the first time in the weeks that Gail had known her, Holly looked surprised.

'_What_?' Gail said, suddenly indignant. 'You were right. I mean, it's not just a switch, or whatever. I guess I just didn't realise I was realising something.'

'Okay, exactly _how_ much did you drink?' Holly asked, amused.

'I'm trying to be sincere! And you're just being…' Gail kissed her roughly. 'Really, really hot. I'm gonna take all your clothes off now, okay?'

'Okay.'

Gail unbuttoned Holly's shirt, simultaneously frustrated and aroused by the fact that the other woman was still wearing a bra.

'Do you _seriously_ wear a bra to bed?'

'I wasn't going to _drive _to your place without putting on a bra,' Holly said, indignantly.

Slowly, carefully, Gail lowered her hands to Holly's chest. Breasts. She really needed to start working on using the right words for things. Somehow, she'd managed to skip the "experimental college phase," mostly because she felt like her mother would have murdered her if she'd tried it. That alone might have made it worthwhile, but the whole "disowning" thing would have cramped her style.

'What, are you just going to hold them?'

'Well_ I _don't know what I'm supposed to do!'

Holly let out a snort. 'Okay, do you know what you like?'

Gail paused. 'Yes,' she said, finally.

'Then try that. We can work out the details later.'

'Okay.' Gail took a shuddering breath, and made to undo Holly's bra. Thank God it was a front clasp, otherwise she had no idea how she was going to get it off. Even so, it was more difficult than it should have been. Holly seemed to find her struggle amusing.

'Go ahead, laugh,' Gail said, in mock irritability. Finally, she managed to wrench the clasp free, and decided that that was good enough. Holly was still laughing, but Gail was too busy trying to figure out what to do to care. Her hands started to knead at Holly's breasts, the friction kind of hurting her still bandaged wrist. Her lips settled sort of awkwardly on Holly's belly-button, and it seemed like kind of a good idea to explore it with her tongue. The moment she did, Holly's body arched, and she let out a soft sort of gasp. Gail drew back quickly.

'Don't stop,' Holly said, in an almost harsh tone. Gail gave a surprised sort of look.

'Really? Your _belly-button_?'

'Says the person who liked it when I—'

'Alright, alright.'

Gail put her head back down, and decided to start getting creative.

…

The bed was super comfortable, and Gail was vaguely aware of a warm body pressed against hers. It hadn't been that long since her and Nick's break-up, but somehow, in those last few weeks, his body hadn't felt as warm, as welcoming as it had a year ago.

Holly wasn't a smothering sort of cuddler, but she was close enough that Gail knew she was there. It was comforting, but not overly overwhelming. Still, now that she was actually sober, she was partially regretting the "eleven p.m. drunken text message" thing.

The first time had been easier, since Holly had an enormous bed, and it was easy enough to sleep separately, while still sleeping together. Gail's bed (now that she wasn't living at home) had to be small enough to fit in a tiny-ass bedroom that still kind of smelt like Chris's aftershave. The day he'd moved back in, they'd shunted him into the spare bedroom, which was somehow even smaller still.

'I preferred waking up in swankville,' Gail murmured into her pillow. Holly's sheets had an insanely high thread count, and her mattress was like something made out of puppies.

Holly laughed. 'My lease ends next month, so "swankville" won't be swankville for much longer.'

'You should get a place with a Jacuzzi next time,' Gail told her. 'A Jacuzzi, and a bar. That way, you never have to go anywhere.'

'Except to work,' Holly reminded her, and Gail made a flicking sort of motion.

'Details.' Gail groaned and rolled over, almost falling out of bed in the process. That was as good as any reason to get up, and hope like hell that Chris and Dov weren't around.

She stepped out into the kitchen, only partially checking that the coast was clear. The first things she noticed was that Chris had made breakfast. The smell of bacon and French toast was wafting through the kitchen. The second thing she noticed was that Traci was sitting at the kitchen table, an almost guilty look on her face.

Gail smirked.

Apparently Traci's night had been just as good as hers.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

'Hey.' Gail had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. She was wearing her black silk bathrobe, and looking thoroughly mussed. Traci wasn't sure whether the bags under her eyes were the result of lack of sleep, or just a hangover.

'…Hey.' Gail eyed her suspiciously. 'What are you doing here?'

'Well, Chris let me in,' she said, purposefully avoiding the crux of the question.

'I—' Gail was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. She turned sharply, and Traci saw Holly, the tall, dark-haired woman as the forensic pathologist that had accompanied Gail to Frank and Noelle's wedding. She grinned. Evidently, someone else had decided that the night wasn't quite finished after they left the Penny.

'As much as I'd love to stick around and do the Laid Parade, I have to go.' Holly pressed a kiss to a surprised Gail's lips, and then walked straight to the door. 'Call me later?'

Gail blanked, and she shot a quick glance towards Traci before responding. 'Um…sure.'

'So did you have a good night?' Traci couldn't help but grin.

'Oh you know. It was alright, I guess.' Gail said, evasively. She sat down beside Traci, and started picking at the bacon that was probably cold by now.

'Uh huh. Is that why you can't stop smiling?'

'You're delusional, Nash.' Gail attempted to give what Traci assumed was a dirty look, but it didn't last very long. Her lips quirked at the edges, and her smile quickly spread to a grin. 'Okay, it was good.'

'Did you eat all the bacon already?' came Dov's voice, as he entered the kitchen, Chloe following close behind him. 'Oh, hey Traci.'

'There's still like…ten pieces here,' Gail said, pushing the plate towards him. 'Chris is overcompensating again.'

'Oh, you mean like he did when—' Gail threw a piece of toast at him.

'Morning,' said Chloe, brightly, sitting down next to Traci.

'Morning,' Traci replied, and Gail gave grunt that was apparently supposed to mean "hello."

'Did anyone hear anything weird around midnight? I could've sworn I heard something scrounging around in the bushes.' Dov slumped into the last available seat, and scraped about a quarter of the bacon onto his own plate.

'Maybe it was just a squirrel Dov, geez,' Gail said, her body tensing. If they hadn't been suspicious before, they were now. If there was one thing that Gail _definitely_ sucked at, it was trying to pretend like nothing was going on.

Dov stared at her, his eyebrows starting to knit in realisation. Before he could say anything, though, Chris had stepped in, and Gail suddenly looked even _more_ uncomfortable.

'What's going on?' Chris asked, yawning as he stepped into the kitchen. He looked around, apparently noticing that there was nowhere left for him to sit.

'What's going on is that there are way too many people in this kitchen. Come on,' Gail said, grabbing Traci by the arm. 'Let's get rid of the losers and go grab brunch.'

…

'I didn't realise you were a "brunch" person,' Traci commented conversationally. She had that raised eyebrow look, and Gail was not going to take the bait.

'I'm not. I wanted mimosas, and I am very much a "food and alcohol at any time of day" person.'

'Aren't you hungover?'

'Hair of the dog,' Gail shrugged. She'd ordered bacon and waffles, which wasn't really "brunch" food, but the fact that she _was_ slightly hungover meant that fruit wasn't really all that appetising. 'So why the early morning "catching the aftermath of my lesbian booty-call" wake-up?'

Okay, maybe mimosas weren't such a great idea.

'I should probably tell you that after we left the Penny last night I might have gone to see your brother.'

Gail immediately put her hands over her ears, fork still caught between her fingers. 'I _really_ do not want to hear about whatever you two got up to last night. I live in blissful ignorance.'

'Well, if you'd rather talk about what _you_ did last night…'

Gail glared daggers at her. 'You did that on purpose.' She dropped the fork, and pouted. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to talk about last night. There was a small part of her that just wanted to non-stop _gush_ about last night. The problem was that every damn word she said felt like a jinx. Things with Holly had gone so…_undramatic_ so far, that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

'If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to talk about it.' Traci said, and Gail could tell she was doing the "try and get Gail to open up of her own accord" thing that she used so often. What was sad was that even when Gail could see it coming, it usually worked. Maybe it was because Traci was the only person (besides Holly) who seemed to _care_ what she had to say.

It hadn't always been like that.

At first, she had loathed them, because they refused to see past the façade of trying to keep her parents happy. Not that she gave them any reason to. It was simpler to put up that impenetrable barrier, than it was for her to have them ostracise her anyway.

Gail knew that she'd grown a lot in the last five years, but she also knew that she had a very, very long way to go. For the first time in a long time, she felt as though her life was moving forward.

Holly _pushed_ her to do things that were just that little bit outside her comfort zone. It was challenging, but at the same time, it was _easy_. Holly wasn't judgemental, or apathetic. She made things that Gail would normally find boring, fun.

It was more than what she could put into words, more than she could explain to Traci. When the right phrase did come, the truth of it surprised even Gail.

'I feel like…my life is finally moving in the right direction,' she said, sincerely.

She just had to hope like hell that she wasn't going to fuck things up.

…

Monday morning found a slightly grumpy Gail sitting at the back of the parade room. Sunday night had found Holly having to take care of some last-minute business at the morgue, which had left Gail home alone (okay, home with Chris, but that didn't really count), watching _Night of the Living Dead_, and staring at her phone. By the time they started playing text tag, it was late, and sleep had been the last thing on Gail's agenda.

Parade was sort of a haze, ending with the usual "serve, protect, and whatever the hell it was that Frank said today."

'So, um…it looks like we're riding together.' Gail frowned at the sound of Andy's voice, and moved to look at the board.

1507: Peck/McNally.

_Fuck._

Whichever sadist had decided it would be a good idea to saddle her with McNally for the day was going to burn in a very exclusive circle of hell. She would be perfectly happy with them dating, so long as the universe didn't try to throw it in her face every second of every day. It made it difficult to move on, to give her heart to someone else, knowing all the horrible things that could go wrong.

'Yeah.' Gail didn't meet her eyes. 'Sounds like a party.' She got the hell out of there, and out to the squad cars, before Andy could say anything else. At the very least, if she had to suffer through this, she wanted to be the one driving.

Once they were out on the road, they managed about fifteen minutes of stony, awkward silence, before McNally just _had_ to talk.

'Gail—'

'No.'

'Listen, Gail, I know you're pissed with me, but I just think we should—'

'You want to know why I'm pissed, McNally? I'm pissed because all Nick ever did was _leave_ me, and when I finally thought things were starting to go okay, I find out he never even loved me anyway, because he was too busy falling head over heels for _you_.'

It was a slight exaggeration; she had no idea whether or not Nick had ever really loved her, but she wanted her words to hurt. She wanted them to be a fucking_ dagger_ in McNally's chest, so that the other woman felt it every time she so much as _thought_ of breathing. She wanted Andy to feel that raw, unbridled pain that Gail had felt, when she saw them together. A dark, unforgiving stain that wouldn't wash free no matter how hard she tried.

'Gail, I'm so—'

'McNally, I don't _want_ your sympathy. I couldn't give a shit how sorry you are. Because you _knew_ how it made me feel, and you decided that you didn't care. I just want to get this shift over with, so I don't have to care about whatever the hell is going on in your life. So please. I don't want to talk about it.'

Gail kept her eyes forward. She didn't want to see the look on Andy's face. She didn't want to see that confused, puppy-dog hurt. She didn't want to be here.

She wanted to be at home, or even better, at Holly's place. Holly, with her shiny dark hair, and ridiculous glasses, and…_qualifications_.

Moving on sometimes meant leaving people in the dust.

Andy, thankfully, got the picture pretty quickly. They drove around in stony silence for almost half an hour, by which point Gail was almost praying for a call. Anything to make the day go by just a fraction faster. When the radio finally crackled, Gail could have kissed it.

It was a "suspicious smell" call, which, on the scheme of things, was pretty boring. Suspicious smells could run the gambit from "dead cat" to "clandestine meth lab." The selfish part of Gail was hoping for something on the higher end of the spectrum, because at least that would give her something of an "Andy buffer."

The area was a little off the beaten track, and it didn't take long for either of them to notice that "suspicious smell" didn't really seem to cover it. It smelt like someone had set fire to a garbage dump full of rotting corpses. It was so pungent, it was hard to tell exactly where it was coming from.

'Split up?' Andy suggested, almost hesitantly. Gail thought on it for a few seconds. Really, it wasn't the best idea; bad things happened when you split up with your partner. But they had a fair chunk of ground to cover, and really, she kind of preferred the idea of looking on her own.

'Yeah,' she agreed.

There was blood on the tree. Not old, dried blood, but something that seemed a little more recent. Cautiously, Gail drew her weapon. It was eerily quiet, and it would be just her luck if "potential body hunt" turned into gunfight.

Another ten minutes of searching didn't yield any more blood (or the bodies that it came from), but there were other signs of suspicious activity. Fragments of frayed rope, half a shackle, a couple of shell casings. Gail mentally stored away each location, knowing that when the Suits got here, they'd need to know. It wasn't worth calling in, though, until they knew exactly _what_ they were calling in.

'Gail.' As if on cue, Gail heard Andy's voice. It wasn't a cry for help or anything, but there was an edge of urgency to it. Gail resisted the urge to snap in reply. Clearly a sign of good personal growth. Andy was standing by the edge of a slope about fifty metres away, staring down at something.

With a barely concealed sigh (well she couldn't spend the _whole_ day growing) Gail lowered her gun slightly, and made her way over to where the other woman was standing.

Andy gestured down to the bottom of the slope. There was a tarp there, but that wasn't what Andy was pointing at. Andy was pointing at the couple of bodies that were half poking out from _under_ the tarp. Gail could see bone poking through skin. The flesh was starting to rot. She was pretty sure she could even see a few maggots.

She swore.

It had started off as such a good day.

* * *

A brief note: I just want to duck in here with a caveat saying that I'm not trying to villainise Andy. At this stage, Gail is still feeling a lot of vitriolic hatred towards both Andy and Nick, which will start to simmer down over the course of the story as she comes to terms with the events of the past and works towards a better future. Peace.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The place was swarming with cops.

The scene they'd cleared was big, and Gail got the impression that the bodies in the ditch, and the other evidence she'd noticed was just the tip of the iceberg. After all, it wasn't every day you stumble onto a mass grave filled with what looked like a serial killer's life work.

'You can't ever find anything small for me to work on, can you, Peck?' Swarek said, surveying the scene.

'This one's not on me,' Gail said. 'Andy found the bodies.' She watched Swarek's reaction at the sound of Andy's name. The whole "whatever the hell it was that was going on between them" annoyed her; it reeked of double-dipping. Andy just couldn't find someone whose life she could tear apart and just stick with them, could she?

'Yeah, well, Nash was supposed to take this one, but for some unknown reason, she's working with Guns and Gangs again. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Peck?'

'I'm sworn to secrecy,' Gail answered, and Swarek gave her a look, like he wasn't entirely sure whether she was serious or not. They walked back to the perimeter of the scene, where Dov, Andy and Oliver were standing Somehow, news had spread quickly, and already, people were coming to rubberneck.

'We're going to have to canvass everywhere within a pretty big radius,' Swarek was saying. 'McNally, you can ride with me. Peck, you can brief Callaghan when he gets here. Lucky for me, half-a-dozen bodies in a ditch is a pretty good reason to call in Homicide.'

Andy looked uncomfortable, and Gail found herself overcome with Schadenfreude. It wasn't the kind of word that was usually in her vocabulary, but for some reason she had a lot of options available for describing other people's pain.

One thing, more than anything else, told her that this was going to be very, very big; Callaghan was on his way. He was like a siren. Or a lighthouse.

_No, wait, that wasn't right. _Gail frowned as her brain searched for the right word, but then she realized that she didn't care. He was one of those people that only ever seemed to be around when the shit hit the fan.

'It looks like the area might have been used as more than just a dumping ground,' Gail told him, and he gave her a look, so she continued. 'There're a few spots where the grass is disturbed, a bit of blood that didn't get cleaned up, plus some stuff he might have accidentally left behind.'

'Show me,' was all Luke said. Forensics was already on the scene – about six that Gail had seen so far, which meant there were probably more, which meant that Holly might be down with the bodies. A couple of guys in full body suits were snapping pictures of one of the trees.

She took him for a tour around the scene, ending at the ditch full of bodies. One of the figures crouched at the side was Holly, and Gail resisted the urge to call out to her. Even still, Holly seemed to hear the sound of their voices, because she turned, and gave a short wave.

'Peck.' Gail jumped at the sound of Callaghan's voice. Holly grinned up at her, before turning back to the bodies. Callaghan wasn't paying attention to either of them, but that didn't mean that Gail wasn't feeling just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

'You be okay to hit the morgue?' he asked, and he wasn't even smirking.

'Yeah, I guess I could manage that,' Gail said, lightly. If he didn't know, she wasn't going to be the one to tell him. It was true, they'd been keeping things kind of low-key, but that didn't always seem to mean much in a station full of people trained to spot things that were out of place.

With no small amount of caution, Gail edged down into the ditch, trying not to retch at the smell that had overcome her. 'Hey,' she said casually, trying not to make it look too much like she was too happy to be there.

'Hey,' Holly replied warmly, though she didn't look up. The look on her face was one of concentrated elation; it amused Gail that there was someone out there that found dead bodies so satisfying. Most forensics people Gail had worked with generally got upset when the cops hung around too much. Holly, on the other hand, seemed to be invigorated by her presence, but then, maybe that was because of their…extra-curricular activities.

'What does it look like?'

'This one hasn't been here long,' Holly answered. 'A couple of weeks, maybe. So a while, but not really, compared to some of the others. Not too much decomp.' Gail nodded, as if the words meant something to her.

'How many?'

'At least five, probably more,' Holly answered. 'I won't know until I get them back to the lab.'

'I guess this means dinner's out of the question,' Gail sighed.

'You know, I'm not the only person that works there,' Holly said, amused. 'I can probably avoid staying past midnight. Maybe grab some Chinese, watch a movie, go climb a mountain.'

'You're _hilarious_.' Gail rolled her eyes.

'Might have to get an entomologist in,' Holly said, as an aside, and then, apparently noticing the blank look on Gail's face, she added, 'Bug scientist.'

'Oh, right,' said Gail, off hand. 'I must've been thinking of something else. So that's for what – seeing if the bugs can tell us how long they've been here?'

'Among other things,' Holly said. 'Weather conditions, level of exposure, whether or not the bodies have been moved...' She trailed off a little. 'Everything okay? Usually you would have told me to shut up by now.'

'I find it _interesting_,' Gail said, defensively. 'I just don't always understand it.'

'So sarcasm is your defence mechanism for lack of knowledge.'

'I admit to nothing.'

'Of course. But you're going to go home tonight, and read up everything you can on forensic entomology so that you don't sound like an idiot next time you come across it.'

Gail knew Holly hadn't meant it in _that_ way, but the word "idiot" still stung a little. It only further highlighted the huge differences between them. The rift that might never fully close.

'Everything okay?' Holly's brow was furrowed with concern.

'Yeah, I just–' Gail cut herself short. 'I was just thinking.' _Self-doubting_ was probably a more accurate term. Or "making up an emergency situation to get out of the goddamn tree."

No.

She wasn't going to do this. She wasn't going to let herself destroy the one tiny glimmer of happiness that she had seen in so long, over her dumb-ass insecurities.

'So I guess they need a responsible officer to accompany the forensic pathologist and give everyone else updates.'

'Oh, wow. Where are they gonna find a responsible officer at this time of day?' Gail gave Holly a soft elbow to the side, and resisted the urge to pull her into a kiss in front of a dozen other people. Maybe this "mass grave" thing wouldn't be completely horrible after all.

...

Gail was surprised by how much she liked the morgue (and that had nothing to do with the forensic pathologist that happens to frequent the place).

It seemed a little macabre when she thought about it, but it was quiet, and it was calm, and there was no-one there judging her.

Even today, though, Gail was starting to get a little tired of...well, everything. The Nick and Andy thing was just one more thing that had piled on top of an increasing pile of stress.

Maybe she needed a holiday.

Or a "take a week off work and stay at home" thing, which was essentially the only kind of holiday she really liked these days.

Somehow, she had taken on the role of "semi-helpful lab assistant," which she didn't entirely mind, because as much as she did kind of enjoy spending time with Holly, she felt a little useless just sitting around waiting to report the findings back to Callaghan.

There were eight bodies in total, based on the number of bones. They ranged from "mostly bones with a little bit of flesh," to "mostly flesh with a little bit of bones," which was about as detailed as Gail could get. Still, she was learning, which would come in handy the next time she had to do a pig autopsy.

It was intriguing to see how things were done behind the scenes, and just as intriguing to figure out the way Holly's mind worked. Medical training aside, she seemed to pick up on things that Gail would have missed, and her mind made connections in a different kind of way.

The work kept them busy until late evening, when Callaghan came by and point blank ordered Gail home. 'I want you out canvassing tomorrow, and there's a lot of ground to cover.'

'So,' said Holly, once Callaghan left. 'How about that dinner?

…

"Dinner" started off as Chinese takeout on Holly's couch, while they watched Star Wars. Things escalated quickly, though, which led to Gail suddenly realizing that they had moved onto _The Empire Strikes Back_.

'I like this one,' she said, grabbing a handful of popcorn. 'So you can't distract me.'

'You know, for someone who makes fun of nerds, you watch a lot of nerdy things,' Holly commented wryly.

'Know thy enemy,' Gail responded. 'But still, not a big fan of _The Art of War_, unfortunately.' She _did_ know what book it was from, and decided to take the points that might have given her.

'Do you want pancakes?' Holly asked, unwinding gracefully as she got up from the couch two and a half hours later.

'The answer to that question is _always_ going to be a yes.' Gail did not want to get up, so she didn't.

Holly's nightshirt just barely covered the back of her thighs, and Gail felt absolutely no shame in staring. Holly had a casual sort of elegance; a stark contrast to Gail's rough edges and awkward angles. Even making pancakes half naked, Holly seemed chic. Her lifestyle was very different to Gail's Holly did things make pancakes from scratch, and clean the kitchen properly, and use a French press. Gail was lucky if she didn't manage to burn her toast. Their coffee machine (that Dov had apparently picked up from an _antique_ store) hadn't been cleaned properly in six weeks, and was starting to become a fire hazard.

'So, thought about where you're going to move when your lease runs out?' Gail asked, trying to fill the lull in conversation, as they sat at the small table just off from the kitchen. It wasn't until the words had come out of her mouth that she realized how suggestive they sounded. Then, she got caught up trying to figure out if she _wanted_ her words to be suggestive. By the time she'd gone through this thought process, Holly was halfway through her answer.

'Oh, I didn't tell you? I got a reprieve; they decided they aren't going to sell it for another six months, so I've got until then to figure something out. Might be time for a change. Save up a deposit. Or maybe sell everything and move to Hawaii.'

'Mmm,' Gail said, smiling. 'Lots of great cocktail places. Wouldn't want to live there, though.' She scarfed down a whole pancake, ignoring Holly's amused look.

'Not even for the beaches?' Holly asked her. ' And don't forget about the volcanoes, maybe a rainforest or two...' She laughed when Gail's expression morphed into an even deeper grimace. 'How else am I going to get you into a bikini?'

'You've seen me naked, how is a bikini a step up on that?' Gail queried, trying to ignore the subtext in the statement.

'I'm not allowed to like both?'

Gail didn't have an answer for that, so she reverted to the age old tactic of changing the subject. 'What exactly is the appeal of rainforests, anyway? It's just...I don't know...trees.'

'So not liking sports extends to pretty much anything outdoors?' Holly asked, sounding more than a little disappointed. Gail didn't know what to tell her. Her childhood hadn't exactly been conventional. Her parents had tended to conflate "camping" with "survival training." To be ready for anything. It was the same attitude that had turned their overseas family vacations into chores more than anything else.

All the preparation in the world couldn't have prepared her for insane forensic pathologist that had fallen into her life.

'Maybe I've just been doing things with the wrong people,' Gail said, which did seem to settle Holly just a little bit. She rinsed off her plate, and loaded it into the almost-full dishwasher.

'Are you...staying the night?'

Gail sat on the question than for far longer than should have been normal. Part of her wanted to stay, but she was kind of drained, and she actually needed to sleep, rather than...do other things. It was true that Holly's bed was way more comfortable than hers, but staying the night would keep her on edge.

She couldn't miss Holly's expression dropping slightly when she said, 'I think I might just go home. It's been a long day, and we both have to be up early tomorrow. Callaghan won't be impressed if I sleep in in the middle of a murder investigation.'

'You know, you can stay here without us having to _do_ anything,' Holly said, and Gail wasn't entirely sure, but Holly sounded almost _irritated_. It was something that Gail had yet to experience properly (though of course, she knew Holly wasn't exactly a robot). There had been exasperation, and maybe a little bit of impatience, but not outright anger.

Gail had no idea whether or not this was some kind of secret ultimatum. Something where if she said no, Holly would just disappear off the face of the planet, and Gail would never see her again.

She stepped forward, closing the gap between them, and pressing a long, passionate kiss to Holly's lips. 'I swear, I'm not trying to be distant,' she said. 'And I'm not trying to make this all about the physical side of things. I just...I'm _trying_, but being around people is hard for me, and sometimes I just need to...decompress.'

'Thank-you,' Holly said, and Gail was utterly confused. Why was Holly_ thanking_ her for not wanting to stay the night? Apparently, the confusion was evident on her face. 'For telling me,' Holly finished.

Gail grabbed her bag, and slung it over her shoulder, stopping only to give Holly a kiss goodbye. 'See you tomorrow?' she said. 'If I get a chance to drop by the morgue, that is.'

The door clicked shut behind her, and Gail tried to pretend like the chasm wasn't there, but it was.

* * *

A/N: Reviews, in addition to being much appreciated, are scientifically proven to help me write faster (Additional note: my scientific qualifications came from a cereal box).


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A little after six the next morning found Gail at the shooting range. It wouldn't do her any good to go out on the streets as edgy as she was. Having an itchy trigger finger was what got people killed.

The first time she failed her re-qualification, Gail spent six hours at the range until she knew, beyond shadow of a doubt, that she could make all of her shots, no matter what kind of distractions were going on around her.

When Traci had been the one that got the Detective rotation, that weekend's dinner had been laden with completely unsubtle hints about how maybe Gail just wasn't trying hard enough. A week after she left the hospital following her abduction, she'd spent a not insignificant amount of time working on learning to get out of strangleholds (and maybe next time, she'd go for the groin before she went for the phone).

If there was one behaviour that her parents had pushed more than anything else, it was adaptation. To forge through every obstacle that life threw at you, to transcend adversity, and become the best of the best.

Or whatever.

Steve was the prodigal son. It wasn't that they thought he could do no wrong, it was just that he never _seemed_ to.

Every single thing her parents had done, was in preparation for now. Nothing was without reason. For the longest time, that attitude had fostered nothing but resentment. Now, though, after so many years, Gail had thought she'd grown up a little.

But, she reasoned, even mature, responsible people were allowed to have a shitty month. She felt conflicted, on some level, in calling it a shitty month. Because sure, some things had left a really unpleasant taste in her mouth, but other things had made for some of the best times she'd had...well, ever.

Her first clip drifted to the upwards slightly. The second clip, she over-corrected just a little bit too much. The third, every shot hit the centre line of the target. Mostly chest shots, a couple to the head, even though they generally tried to avoid that when actually out on the street. Gail had heard enough horror stories from her brother for the skill to be one that she wanted in her repertoire, even if she never actually had to use it.

It was with a little more clarity, and a lot more calmness that Gail left the shooting range. It lasted for about fifteen minutes until there was a knock on the open door of the locker room, and Gail's mood took a sudden nosedive.

It was Nick.

'What do you want?' she said, brusquely, not even bothering to hide the fact that she wanted him to go jump in a pit full of snakes.

'I just wanted to talk,' Nick said. He didn't make a move to sit down beside her, or in any way move closer, but just _stood_ there.

'Go find a mirror; I'm sure you're the only one that can give you the amount of attention you need.'

She made to walk past him, but he put out a hand to stop her. 'Gail.' Nick's hand was on her arm, not quite grabbing, but not really just resting, either. She stared daggers at him until he pulled it away.

'What did you say to Andy?' He spoke with a tone of voice that she'd never really heard from him before. It wasn't the resigned disappointment he'd shown her the night of their break-up.

'Why don't you ask her?'

'She won't tell me.'

'Oh, and you thought I might? Get a grip.'

'Why can't you just let us be happy, Gail?' She couldn't believe that he was putting this onto her. _She_ wasn't the one that kept bringing it up.

'I loved you, Nick. I _always_ loved you. You left me in Vegas, and came back five years later, expecting everything to be okay. And just when things were finally starting to go back to normal, you left me again, and this time, you never really came back. I don't _need_ your sympathy. I don't _care_, if you move to Moai and have six thousand kids. Just please...stop asking me to be _happy_ for you. You really want me to be happy for you? Just stay the hell away from me.'

She stalked off before he could say anything else, because she really, really didn't want to have this argument right before shift started. They were still canvassing, and the last thing Gail needed was to be so angry while talking to oblivious residents that probably didn't see a damn thing.

Gail felt that she had been markedly reserved, given the circumstances. What _she'd_ really wanted to do was punch him in the face, but her wrist was still feeling tingly from the chemical burns. The conversation had made her time at the range seem pointless, since now her hands were shaking so hard, she felt like she needed to—

Gail stopped.

Holly was standing at the door to the locker room. She gave no indication that she heard any part of the conversation between Gail and Nick, but judging by the look on her face, she knew something was up.

'What are you doing here?' Gail asked, a little more brusquely than she had intended. Holly looked a little startled, and then a little hurt.

'You left your shirt at my place last night,' she said, her voice soft. 'I thought you might...' She trailed off, handing Gail the scrunched up ball of material. Barely even aware that she was holding it, Gail's arms dropped to her side.

'I'm sorry,' she said, shaking her head. She wanted – she _needed_ – to be with Holly, because it somehow made all of that bad stuff seem like it wouldn't be so much of a problem. 'I...Would it be weird, if I came over tonight? I want to...I want to stay with you.'

Holly didn't answer straight away, and for a brief moment, Gail was afraid she was going to say no, that she was going to say that she thought it was a bad idea. A second later, she smiled, and said, 'Of course,' and Gail felt a little of that shakiness go away.

...

The Gods of police work had shined their fortunes down upon her:

Today, she was paired with Oliver.

Generally speaking, he was the person she preferred to ride with the most. He made things interesting, and was a great deal less insufferable than everyone else. He knew where she liked to eat for lunch, and didn't look at her funny when she ordered a hot dog with everything except ketchup, and a donut for afters. He had her back, and he pushed her just the right amount.

She didn't _mind_ working with Dov or Chris, but given that they lived together, sometimes she just needed to spend some time with other people.

After two hours, they had talked to thirty-seven people. A lot of the houses were empty, with people either at work, or apparently not wanting to answer the door when a couple of uniformed officers knocked.

'So what do you think?' asked Oliver, after person number thirty-eight (lived alone, no kids, didn't see anything suspicious, lots of different vehicles go down this street, why are you bothering me at home, slammed the door in their faces).

'I think he was just an asshole,' Gail said, dismissively.

'I meant about the bodies.' He gave a hand wave. 'Any theories?'

Gail gave him a look. Oliver wasn't usually a "theories" kind of person. He was usually a "get the job done" person.

But still. She appeased him in a way she wouldn't for anyone else. 'Some of them have been there for a while, so he's either pretty smart, or pretty lucky...' She paused, considering the point. 'But he didn't exactly go to too much of an effort to hide them, so I guess he's arrogant?' She shook her head. 'I don't know. He clearly knows the area pretty well, which suggests that someone around here probably does know him, even if they don't realize it.'

'You know, Detective rotation's coming up again,' he commented, in that voice of his that said he was pretending to be off-hand about things, but wasn't really. The continuity of the events didn't make her suspicious at _all_.

'Mmm,' Gail said, in that voice of hers that said she was pretending like she didn't know exactly what he was trying to do.

'You going to apply?'

'You think I should,' Gail answered. It wasn't a question. ''cos I did so well with my application last time.'

'A lot can change in a year,' was all Oliver said to that.

'You can say that again,' Gail muttered, and she knew that Oliver did not have a clue what she was talking about.

...

It was a little after eight when Holly heard the knock on the door. It was forceful, rather than hesitant, which meant that Gail had had either a very bad day, or a very good day. Based on what she'd heard this morning, Holly was betting on the former.

Gail's hair was down, and she was wearing enough make-up than Holly could notice it. Not that Holly had all that much experience with how Gail dressed for casual "not going anywhere" kind of evenings. Most of the ones that they'd had so far had been abnormal circumstances.

The first thing Gail did was pull Holly into a long, almost handsy kiss. 'I have had...' Gail kicked the door shut behind her. 'A phenomenally shitty day.' She pulled off her jacket, and let it fall to the floor. 'Do you know how many people like the cops coming to their door, asking about serial killers?'

'Uh...'

'None.' Gail's hands went straight to Holly's top button. 'The answer is none. Nobody likes the cops asking questions about serial killers. Maybe next time we'll hand out muffins, too.'

While Holly knew that the presence of a potential serial killer had most of the division working non-stop, but she would have at least thought that Gail might have mentioned the _other_ thing that was going on.

Holly had fallen for enough straight girls in her time to notice when they were putting it on. Usually she could tell almost straight away, but Gail Peck was a difficult person to read. Almost walking in on Gail and her ex – _that_ had been brutal, but she still had no goddamn idea what the hell was going on. It was no secret that Gail played things close to the chest.

She hated herself for having to ask it, but she needed to know; she couldn't let herself fall any deeper into the pit if it was going to end with Gail falling back into somebody else's arms.

'I need to ask you something,' Holly blurted out. Gail looked up from where she had started to suck on Holly's neck.

'Um...okay.' Gail frowned, and there was something in her eyes that told Holly she was starting to put things together.

'Do you still love him?'

'Him who?'

'Don't play coy. You suck at lying.'

'Do you really want to talk about this right now?' Gail switched quickly into a harsh defensive mode. It wasn't the affectionate sort of frostiness that Holly was used to, but a cold, dark, ugly thing that was no doubt designed to push people away. The message was clear: she didn't want to talk about Nick with anyone, least of all Holly.

Holly wasn't going to give up that easily. Gail was not the only person allowed to be insecure about things.

'I don't know...I just...want to know where your focus is.'

'You want to know if I'm using you to try and get back at him.'

'Gail, don't put words in my mouth. That's not what I meant, and you know it.'

'Isn't it?' Gail said, stubbornly. 'Then what _did_ you mean, Holly?'

Holly paused. She knew what she meant, and she hated herself for thinking it. Maybe (probably) it made her selfish, but she didn't want to be jealous of someone that Gail wasn't even dating anymore.

She wanted to be the person that comforted Gail, that made her feel loved. More than _anything_, Holly wanted this to be real, because if it wasn't real, then she was just leading herself straight into disaster.

'I want to know if I'm just your rebound.'

...

'I want to know if I'm just your rebound,' Holly said, and Gail could hear the pain in her voice.

'It's not like that,' Gail said, dismissively, but at the same time, she was hurt that Holly would even think that.

'Then why does it matter if they're seeing each other? Don't you think you're giving them a hard time?' For the first time, Holly's voice was hesitant, as though she didn't quite like what she was saying. Gail felt a stabbing pain in her chest.

'What?' she asked, hoping like crazy that she'd misheard something.

'Come on. Life's too short to get so upset about the small stuff.' The hesitation had increased, but it was too late now.

_Small stuff?_

_Seriously?_

Gail bit back on the retort that was sitting in the back of her throat, because the last thing she needed was to lose the one person who she'd thought was going to take her side.

'Hey, I'm not trying to lessen what happened. It sucks, and it sucks that it sucks. But you're living in the past.'

Gail pulled away from Holly's hand. 'Maybe you don't think this is a big deal, but this is my life. I know you don't take those kinds of things seriously, but it would be nice for somebody to give me support.'

There was a battle raging inside of her. Part of her was furious, and yet the problem wasn't that she thought Holly was wrong. The problem was that she _knew_ Holly was right. It wasn't fair on her for Gail to be so caught up on being angry. Unfortunately, the rational, logical part of her brain was so frequently overshadowed by the part that was seemingly intent on martyrdom.

_The truth is, you don't want anyone to help you, because you'd rather blame everyone else for your self-destruction._

'Gail.' Gail ignored Holly's voice, and the subsequent pleas for her to stay. 'Gail, please, I'm not trying to–'

She grabbed her jacket off the floor, and stalked out of Holly's apartment, entirely unsure of what the hell she was going to do. Thank god no-one seemed to be around, because she could feel the tears starting to well up at the corner of her eyes. Apparently it wasn't just men that she inevitably screwed things up with. Gail Peck, equal opportunity bitch.

It was late. Way too late for her to doing the whole "walking the streets in angst" thing again. She was tired, and upset, and maybe if she went to bed right away, it'd all turn out to be some horrible dream. That she wasn't the continual agent of her own destruction.

She'd driven there, thank _God_. There had been enough "dramatic, walking around alone after dark" for her to handle in the last few weeks. Even though every single brain cell was screaming at her to turn around, and have a reasonable, rational discussion, she brushed them aside. The past had sullied her against reasonable, rational discussions, since people always seemed to blame her regardless.

She made it six blocks before she had to pull over, choking back teary, breathless sobs.

Everything she'd thought was good in her life was slowly, but surely starting to slip away.

* * *

Please don't kill me now, I'm sure that you'd all much prefer to do it at the end of the next chapter. Don't forget to review.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Gail wasn't exactly sure how she made it home. She moved on autopilot, muscle memory taking each turn as it came.

Somehow, she managed a couple of hours of fitful, teary sleep. She hated herself for what she'd done, and yet she wouldn't – she _couldn't_ – go back. She couldn't look Holly in the eye, and tell her that she wasn't still in love with. The problem wasn't that it was a lie. No, it was just the opposite.

The problem was that Gail Peck was head over goddamn heels. She was in love with Holly Stewart, and that was one of the scariest things that had ever happened to her.

It wasn't that she'd never been in love before; once upon a time, she _had_ loved Nick, but that had started to die the second time he left her without a word. Chris, she had _liked_, but she wasn't sure she had ever really loved him.

She wanted desperately to be a better person. She wanted to not be insecure, and paranoid, and angry at everyone that pissed her off even the slightest.

This morning at the range, her shots were wildly off, and no amount of pulling the trigger could make her feel any less shitty.

After three magazines, she gave up, scrunching her target into the trash can. The tears were coming back up again, and she pushed them away like she had so many other times before.

If she was lucky, she could probably make it through the locker room and sneak into the back of parade before people started asking questions. It wasn't that—

'Peck,' came a voice. Gail turned. She wasn't sure who she was expecting it to be. It was Callaghan.

'Sir?'

He appraised her, no doubt seeing the redness of her eyes, the hollow look on her face, not to mention the fact that she'd called him "sir."

'You feel like riding with me today?' he asked. 'I'm running through some persons of interest that had links to the victims that the pathologist identified yesterday.' It was news to Gail that Holly had IDed some of their victims, but then, they hadn't exactly had a chance to talk properly last night.

'Uh…sure,' she said. She knew that if she said anything else, everything would start spilling out. Callaghan might have already seen her at her worst, but she wasn't really intent on letting him see anything more. Frankly, she was surprised he was coming to her. Usually, he went to his perfect princess Andy.

Though, she imagined that he probably wasn't all too happy about seeing Nick and Andy together either, and the thought of having something approaching an ally comforted her a little. If she couldn't have one in Holly then she might, at least, have one in Luke. Sleeping with him would probably be taking the "self-destruction" thing one step too far.

'Out in the cold again?' Luke asked, and there was a look of understanding in his eyes, as they pulled out of the divisional parking lot. Even though they didn't always agree on things, Gail got along with Callaghan more than she did a lot of people. He understood her desire to isolate herself from other people, and he didn't judge her for it.

Gail gave a sort of half shrug.

'Want to talk about it?'

'Nope.'

'Okay,' he said, and it really was okay. Callaghan was an asshole sometimes, but you didn't have to dig too deep to figure out he was a nice guy. 'So our first victim was Jason Holder; he has a few priors, and some known associates that are interesting enough to keep looking into.'

Gail looked over Holder's arrest record. 'Assault, Assault with a deadly weapon, possession with intent…' she started. 'Charming.'

'Yeah,' Luke agreed. 'If we'd found him a little more out in the open, I might've thought we were looking at someone trying to clean house. You haven't lost a uniform lately, have you?'

'Ha ha.' Gail gave him a look. To her surprise, he smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a smile (and a non-sarcastic one, which was more than most people got. 'No psychics, either.'

That, he actually laughed at, and Gail found herself relaxing. She bit her lip. 'About that time…there was something I never told you. The reason my uniform was in the car was because I…I was kind of living out of it.'

Luke didn't say anything, but he had definitely heard her, so she continued.

'I'd…just broken up with Chris, and I was too…proud to want to go live at home again, because at my age, when other people are getting mortgages, that just felt…I don't know. Pathetic.'

'You're not pathetic,' Luke said, and for a brief second, Gail got the impression that he'd been there at one point as well. 'If you were pathetic, I never would have brought you along.'

That, Gail laughed at. It wasn't a happy laugh, exactly, but she _was_ starting to feel a little better.

'So why tell me now?' he asked, almost casually. 'I mean, it's not as though I ever would have figured it out.'

'Well I'm trying this whole "being honest" with people thing, because it's come to my attention that I'm kind of an idiot about telling people how I feel.'

'Wow,' he said. 'That bad?'

'Do you want me to get started on everything that's wrong with your life, Homicide? Because that's a pretty long list.'

Luke just grinned.

…

Traci had just closed her locker when she heard a knock on the open door of the locker room. She looked up to see a dark-haired woman with glasses. She looked vaguely familiar, and it took Traci a few seconds to realize that it was Gail's...Holly. Her eyes were red, and she looked like she'd been crying.

'Holly?' Traci asked, frowing.

'I screwed up,' said Holly, bluntly. Traci stared at her, torn between surprise and confusion. They'd never even spoken properly before, but for some reason, Traci felt like she should have expected this. Not because she thought that Holly would "screw things up," so to speak, but because she knew that Gail was...well, Gail.

'She bolted in the middle of the night, huh?'

Holly looked at her, a little surprised. 'You sound like you saw that one coming.

'I've seen Gail Peck run away from a lot of things. When she and Chris dated, half the station was taking bets on how long it would take for her to do something to send him running. What they didn't get was that it was always going to be the other way around.'

Holly frowned, and Traci realized that she wasn't sure if Holly knew that Gail and Chris had dated.

'What I mean is that when something goes wrong, and her first instinct is to run as far away as possible, instead of actually trying to fix the problem. If you really like her, then my advice is to still be around when she musters up the courage to come back.'

'She's not...' Holly seemed to struggle with her words. 'I just...I've been burned by a lot of straight girls who get turned off men, and just want a quick fling.'

Traci was speechless. She felt like she'd missed the point completely. There had clearly been some major miscommunication somewhere along the line, and if Gail wasn't answering her phone, it mean she was almost definitely trying to avoid the issue.

'Holly,' she said, firmly. 'We both know that Gail is not the best person about telling people how she feels, but I need to tell you that she is goddamn crazy for you. I have _never_ seen her so happy as when she's talking about you.'

'She talks about me?' Holly asked, in a softish sort of voice.

'At first I thought she got replaced by an alien imposter,' Traci said, with a laugh, and the realization that she'd probably been letting Leo watch way too much science fiction. 'Give her a couple of days. Eventually, she'll pick up your calls.'

Holly nodded. There was a long pause. Finally, she said, 'I'm Holly, by the way. Nice to meet you.'

...

Working with the Detectives was usually interesting, but today seemed to be just as boring as canvassing neighbours, only maybe with a much narrower focus.

'That's ninety percent of the job, Peck,' Callaghan told her. 'You should know that.'

Well then that was ninety percent of the job that she'd probably _suck_ at. Detective rotations were coming up again, and Gail was toying with the idea of putting an application in again. If only because she'd get the "Elaine Peck disappointment treatment" if she didn't. Talking to people had never really been her thing.

Her phone vibrated in her vest, and she swore. She wasn't even sure why she even bothered having it on; everyone that had tried to call her had been given the silent treatment. Maybe that was a little petty, but they'd get over it. She wasn't ready to talk yet. When she was ready to talk, she would answer.

Holly had tried about eight times today– well above the next in line, which was Traci at four, which probably meant that Holly and Traci had talked. Another time, Gail might have been upset by that, but for some reason she wasn't, and she had no idea why.

Gail stared at it, deciding whether or not she wanted to answer.

'I'll catch you up,' she told Luke and he nodded, continuing up the stairs.

'Excuse me,' said a voice, and Gail jumped. She slipped her phone back into her pocket, and turned to face the man that had spoken. He was about thirty, with sandy hair, and a strangely vacant expression on his face. In one hand, he was carrying a plastic grocery bag, filled with what looked like cat food.

'Is everything okay?' he asked, his voice even.

'There were some bodies found not far from here,' Gail told him. 'You might have had some officers come around asking questions?'

'No, I haven't been home.'

'You know a guy named Jason Holder?' Gail asked, and the guy's expression didn't seem to change. His eyebrow lifted slightly, but that was it.

'Yeah, I mean, he was my neighbour.'

'You know of anyone that might want to kill him?'

'Well, he was kind of a dick.' The guy lifted a hand to scratch his cheek. There was blood under his fingernails. Gail tried not to let the frown show on her face.

There was something wrong. He was way too calm, too cocky, for someone being asked about his neighbour's murder, even if his neighbour was a scumbag. They were half a block from where the bodies had been found. There was no way it was that easy.

Gail clawed through her memory for the names of one of the other victims. If he'd known one...

'Does the name Philip Wilder mean anything to you?'

He gave her a look, as if evaluating her level of threat, and then half a second later, Gail found herself hit in the face with a bag full of cat food. She stumbled backwards, swearing.

The guy (she didn't even know his goddamn_ name_) was running like crazy, and Gail had to recompose herself for half a second before she could give chase.

'In pursuit of suspect,' Gail called into her radio, following it up with her location. She didn't have time to call out for Callaghan, but with any luck, he would figure things out.

Half a block down, it quickly became pretty damn clear he was heading back to the dump site, which gave a little credence to the theory that he was their serial killer.. She put another call out, hardly paying attention to whatever responses came.

Gun out, she moved forward quickly, but cautiously. The dark of the trees closed on on her.

If this was the guy that had left a bunch of bodies in a pit, then he knew the place a lot better than she did.

The tree root came out of nowhere, and Gail didn't quite manage to stop herself before she tripped head over heels, landing heavily on her arm. Her weapon had flown from her grip, and she had no idea where it had landed. What kind of metaphor that was for her life, she didn't want to know.

His hands went to her throat, and the first thought that ran through her head was, _this is not going to happen to me again._

Heel of the palm to the neck, knee to the groin, and a foot to the face for good measure. At least, that was how it was _supposed_ to go; the neck strike hardly left an impact, and the kick missed entirely, but not even this guy was going to ignore a knee to the junk.

Gail's head was spinning, and she was pretty sure she might have sprained something. There was no time to think about any of that, because he had a gun, and hers was who the fuck knows where. Her eyes darted, and she spotted it just within arms reach. Her fingers clutched the grip the moment he lifted his gun and fired.

From an early age, Gail had been taught about guns.

Before she'd ever even touched one, she learned that before it was a weapon, a gun was first and foremost, a tool. There were a hundred other options you could take before you pulled the trigger.

Every day, her mother and father brought their service weapons home. Many a time, Gail had watched as they locked them away in the gun safe in their bedroom closet. More than once, as her father tucked the keys back into his pocket he would say to her, 'Remember, Gail – guns are not toys.'

They had point blank refused to let her play with toy guns – not that she _really_ wanted to. But their insistence on the matter had kickstarted her stubbornness streak.

The day she turned fourteen, they took her to the shooting range. Well, it was _supposed_ to have been "they," but her mother and father had been working, so it had fallen to Steve to take her. Steve, who was a few months shy of twenty-four, and half-way through his first year in the force.

Her first clip, not a single shot hit the target. More than a few hit the ground in front of the target, and one clipped the edge of the cardboard, but she knew that that didn't really count.

'It's not kicking back too much?' Steve asked, trying to hide the frown that was spread across his face.

'No.' Gail shook her head.

'Okay.' He thought for a few moments. 'The target's probably too far away for you,' he said, decidedly. 'Let's try it at ten metres.'

Ten metres was a little easier – at least her shots were hitting the target now. She got a few pretty close to the centre, but no bullseyes, which was a little disappointing.

'Want to try the nine millimetre?' Steve asked, and Gail panicked slightly. 'It's not so bad,' he continued, seeing the look on her face. 'As long as you keep a firm grip, and a solid stance, you'll be fine.'

The nine millimetre would have been enough for Gail, but apparently that was not the point of whatever lesson her parents were trying to teach.

'Mom made you do this, didn't she,' Gail said, miserable. She had managed a single shot with the .45, before the wrist pain became too much.

'She wanted you to have experience with some of the more powerful weapons,' Steve said, which was pretty much a straight "yes." Gail rolled her eyes. It wasn't as though she even wanted to be a cop anyway. She didn't know _what_ she wanted to do, just that it had to be something completely unrelated to law enforcement.

The targets came forward, and Steve reached up to pull Gail's down.

He pointed out the hole from the .45, in the middle of the 8 ring. It was a little under a centimetre in diameter. Gail stared at it. She could almost poke her index finger straight through it. Whatever damage it did to a piece of cardboard was nothing compared to the damage it would doto a person.

The next day, she could barely move her arms. Steve seemed to find that fact highly amusing, given that he'd been the one that wheedled her into actually doing what Mom wanted.

'What are they trying to prove?' Gail grumbled.

'They're trying to make a point that you only pull the trigger if you really have to,' Steve told her. His voice had a certain gravity to it, and it wasn't until a few years later that Gail learned he'd shot dead a murder suspect not three days prior.

Gail had been a police officer for four years, and she had thankfully managed to avoid shooting anyone. Unfortunately, all she _did_ have to show for her time was the incessant nightmares, a pay cut, and a string of broken relationships (both sexual and otherwise). Everyone else was moving forward, whereas Gail's life seemed to go backwards every step she tried to take. She would have considered it ironic, if she had any patience for the concept.

There were two sides to the coin; being a Peck might have meant that some things were easier (even if that hadn't really helped her much at all), but it also meant she was held to a higher standard when she fucked up. It meant that it wasn't just her superiors that were disappointed or angry, but her mother, and her father, and everyone else.

Everything she touched turned to crap, and today was just the same as any other day.

The first bullet hit her thigh, and her body started to crumple. Everything started moving in slow motion. An eternity passed – enough time for a million empires to rise and fall. Her head pounded. Her body shook. Her finger squeezed the trigger as she fell.

The second bullet hit her vest, just below the heart. Gail had never been hit in the ribcage with a sledgehammer before, but she imagined that it felt a little something like this.

The third bullet hit her neck, close enough to her arm that she might call it her shoulder, but she didn't even realize it until she had dropped to her knees, hand to her throat. She was aware of how fucking hard it was to breath before she even registered the pain. The blood seemed to pour through her fingers, as though they were nothing more than a ghostly visage. Another eternity passed, and her knees buckled beneath her. She fell awkwardly, vaguely aware of a jarring pain as her elbows hit the dirt.

It was less than a minute before her hands were covered in blood, and she heard Callaghan's voice calling her name. The sound was muted, as though the words were coming from another world.

'Medic's on the way,' he said, and maybe it was her imagination, but there was a streak of blood across his cheek. Had he been hit, too?

'Luke,' Gail started, and the blood bubbled on her lips. Must've bit her tongue. She wasn't sure if the words were even coming out. She was still half on her side, which made things awkward, but Callaghan knew better than to move her too much.

Death's cold hands brushed against her, and for the first time in her life, she knew she was going to die.

It was hot – so freaking hot – and the trim of her jacket was itching against her neck. It was probably sticky with blood by now, which meant that she'd have to take it to the dry cleaners. Again.

She closed her eyes, and thought of Ross Perik. On some days – the lowest of the low – she wished to God that it had been her, not Jerry, that had died at his hands. Considering how much she'd screwed up her life since then, it would have been better for Traci, and for everyone else, if he'd lived and she had died.

Holly…well, she never would have known Holly. And maybe Holly would have been better off for it. At least now, she could find someone that treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Someone that didn't pull away at every turn. Maybe in another life, they could have been happy, and Gail wished like hell that it could have been this one.

Is this how Jerry had felt, lying there, bleeding to death?

Helpless, and yet…

Accepting.

There was too much blood, too much pain, for it to end any other way. The pain was giving way to numbness, and the only thing Gail could feel now was Callaghan's hand holding hers. He spoke to her, and she spoke back, but she wasn't really sure what she was saying. They'd never really been _close_ close (she's not really _close_ close with anyone), but she was glad that he was there. The thought of dying alone was…

She only wished it was somewhere a little nicer. Out here, the sound of the birds was starting to piss her off. The sunshine hurt her eyes.

When it started to become dark, and cold, and quiet, she was almost relieved.

* * *

Okay, *now* you're allowed to kill me.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Luke was on his way back down the stairs when he heard the gunshots.

The sounds were clustered together; like two weapons had been fired almost simultaneously.

'Peck,' he muttered, and immediately broke into a run.

Something had happened between her stopping to answer her phone, and now, but it wasn't the time to wrack his brains about what it might have been.

His heart almost stopped when he saw her.

There was a man lying dead not twenty feet from her, his white shirt stained red with blood. Luke kicked the gun away from his hand, and rushed to Gail's side.

He grabbed for her radio, and put out the last call any police officer ever wanted to make. It wasn't exactly the best thing to hear over the radio, and it was even worse when you were the one that had to say it. He put one hand to Gail's shoulder, and another to her leg. The shoulder wound didn't seem to be bleeding too badly (though maybe that was because Gail's hands had taken the brunt of it), and the leg one didn't seem to have hit the femoral artery, which was at least one thing that hadn't gone horribly wrong today.

'Don't go anywhere, Peck,' Luke said, warningly. Gail was drifting in and out of cognisance; the look in her eyes told him she was alert enough to know what was going on. Barely.

'You should be so lucky,' she murmured.

'You kidding me? Your Mom's gonna kill me if I let you die on my watch.'

That, she laughed at, but it came too softly and too slowly for Luke not to worry. If she did die, then somehow he'd probably find himself demoted back to a uniform, but that was the least of his worries.

'He hit me in the face with a bag of cat food,' she said, sounding almost indignant, and for a moment, Luke wasn't actually sure whether or not she was delirious, until he noticed the bruises that were starting to form on her cheek.

'Well that's where he screwed up.'

'Fucker _shot_ me,' Gail spat, indignantly. She moved to sit up slightly, and then gave a loud gasp of pain.

'Hey, stay with me, Peck!' Luke said, but Gail's eyes had already shut. Her pulse was still fairly strong, and she was breathing fast, so he tried not to let himself worry too much.

The first squad car arrived just half a minute later.

Epstein's face was pale, and thankfully, Oliver took the initiative and got him to clear the scene. It wasn't that there might have been anything else out there, but it was more productive than having him stand around watching his friend bleed to death. Not that Luke was going to let her die.

No.

He refused to do that.

'Take her gun,' Luke told Oliver. He knew how this went. Shootout in the woods with no witnesses; regardless of who she'd shot, there would be an enquiry.

That was another day's problem.

When the ambulance came, it was in a blur of red and blue lights. Luke stepped backwards, trying not to look down at his hands. He shared a glance with Oliver.

'I'll go,' Oliver said, and Luke nodded. He needed to be there for when the ME arrived. He needed to figure out who the hell this guy was, and they needed to get people to his residence.

He could have been just a random crazy that attacked a police officer with a bag of cat food and ran for it, but given all the other factors, Luke thought there was a good chance he was involved. For all they knew, he wasn't working alone. But of course, even if he was, he wouldn't be answering any questions. Peck's first bullet had torn through his heart, and the second had just driven another nail through the coffin.

'Scene's clear,' Dov said, as he came back into view. He didn't look down. There was blood on the ground. A lot of blood. 'Marlo and Andy are on their way – Nick and Chris, too.'

'Good,' Luke said, shortly. 'We'll need them.'

...

For the third time that month, Traci Nash found herself working side-by-side with Guns and Gangs.

'You know, it's funny how you always seem to need the help of a rookie Detective,' she commented to Steve, who was making a show out of pretending he didn't know what she was talking about. When that failed, he just grinned.

'What can I say, Nash? You motivate me to be hardworking and conscientious. Besides. I figure you aren't gonna learn properly with someone like Swarek teaching you the ropes. Not when he's too busy figuring out which brunette he wants to sleep with.'

Traci was about to make a witty retort, when Steve's phone rang. He frowned.

'Dad?' His expression went from carefree, to worry-worn. Traci knew that the Inspector wouldn't be calling at this time of day unless it was important. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly. 'Okay. Okay, I can be there.'

He hung up, and turned to Traci. 'Gail's been shot,' he said, and Traci felt her heart plummet.

'How bad?'

Steve shook his head. 'Too early to say. One to the shoulder, one to the thigh. Mom's out of town, and Dad's stuck in a meeting.' He spoke with a resigned sort of bitterness, but made no comment about his parents' commitments.

'Jansen, I need you to take care of this for me,' Steve said, pointing to the case file sitting on his desk. 'I have to go to the hospital.'

Thanks to Steve's erratic driving, and the sirens of his unmarked, they made it to the hospital in record time. Just as they were about to set foot inside, Traci's phone started to ring.

Her heart skipped a beat as she moved to answer it.

'It's Chris,' she told Steve, who relaxed slightly. 'Hey, Chris—Yeah, I know. I'm with Steve; we're just at the hospital now. How's she looking?'

'_She's going to be fine. She _has_ to be fine_,' Chris said, and Traci could hear the strain in his voice. Even though he and Gail hadn't been together in years, they were still close. '_Oliver's with her at the hospital, but we're still stuck at the scene. I just thought—I wasn't sure if you knew._'

'I will keep you updated,' Traci promised. After a pause, she added, 'Stay safe,' and hung up.

'How is it that you managed to get a call before I did?' Traci asked, a little confused, as she slipped the phone back into her pocket.

'Peck connections,' Steve shrugged. Traci knew that it was a plausible explanation. Frank would have called her parents almost immediately. Anyone on the scene would have had other things to worry about.

The sudden realization hit her with the force of a sledgehammer.

_Fuck._

Traci wasn't normally inclined to swear. Raising Leo had trained that out of her. But she'd completely forgotten about Holly.

'Do you know Holly's number?' Traci asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be. Steve shook his head.

When they got to the waiting room, Oliver was already there. To anyone that didn't know him, he looked relatively composed, but Traci could see the furrow in his brow, and the worry in his eyes.

'Did they give you her phone?' Traci asked, and Oliver nodded.

'Yeah,' he said, passing the phone over.

Traci tried to ignore the fact that the phone had blood on it. 'I don't know her PIN,' she said, feeling suddenly defeated.

'Here.' Steve took the phone, and pressed something in. 'She uses the same one for pretty much everything. Makes it really easy to crack her password.'

Traci found a place where she could use the phone without upsetting anyone.

'_Gail_?' Holly's voice sounded hopeful, and Traci realized how much of an idiot she was an idiot for calling from Gail's phone.

'No, it's...it's Traci.'

Holly was smart enough to know what that meant. Smart enough to know that the only reason Traci would be calling from Gail's phone...

'_What happened? Is she okay?_'

'She's been shot,' Traci said. 'She's still in surgery.'

'_Which hospital?_' Holly demanded, and from the background noises, Traci could tell that she was about to drop everything and head straight there.

'No, stay there. I'll have a squad car pick you up,' Traci said firmly. The last thing they needed was for Holly to get into a car accident trying to get to the hospital. That would have been a fun one to explain to Gail. With a few more reassuring words, she hung up, and used her own phone to call 15 Division.

Chloe was in booking, and she couldn't exactly leave. There was no way she was going to ask Frank to do it. Finally, she managed to get hold of Swarek, who agreed to bring Holly over before heading over to the crime scene.

The only thing to do now, was wait.

...

Oliver had gone back out there, to help with whatever it was that Callaghan needed; if it was this bad when their main suspect was dead, Steve didn't want to think about how hectic things would have been if Gail hadn't managed to take him down. He couldn't sit. He could barely even stand still. There was a bundle of raw, tense energy that had built up inside of him.

It had been similar, and yet completely different when she'd been kidnapped. Then, he'd been deep enough undercover that the only thing he could do was focus on his mission, to try not to think about what some sicko was doing to his sister. Then, it could have gone any way; she could have turned up fine, or she could have turned up dead. Now, the options were a lot fewer, but no less terrifying.

Beside him, Traci straightened, and Steve looked over towards the entrance of the waiting room as Holly stepped in. Eyes red, and glasses askew, almost immediately, she pulled Traci into a hug. Traci looked a little startled, but reciprocated.

Guns and Gangs had a not insignificant number of bodies that seemed to end up down in the morgue. Holly had handled a few of his autopsies; she was very smart, and very professional.

Now, she looked the same as anyone else that had rushed to the hospital after finding out someone they loved had been shot.

Swarek, for some reason, had come up with her.

How's she doing?' Swarek asked. Steve didn't answer straight away. He blinked back the tears that were pressing in the corner of his eyes.

'Well, she's still in surgery, but...Oliver says she was conscious for a bit in the ambulance, and at the scene, and the doctors are optimistic, so...It's good. Barring any complications...' He trailed off. He didn't want to think about what would happen if there were any complications. Since the day Gail had joined the academy, there had been an unspoken expectation that he would take care of her. Even if they worked in completely different areas. Even if he was Chief of Police, and she was still working the streets, he would take care of her, because she was his little sister.

'Hey. If anyone can get through it, it's her,' Swarek said. 'Me, I'd be more worried about the doctors not surviving the trip. You Pecks all have acid blood, right?'

Steve took the gentle ribbing for what it was – an attempt to comfort and reassure him. Even though he and Swarek had moved through the ranks at a similar sort of time, they'd never really been friends. 'Thanks,' he said, seriously.

Swarek nodded. 'Any time.'

And with that, he was gone.

...

Hours passed slowly. Holly had barely said a word since she'd gotten there; she looked as though she might throw up if she tried.

'The last thing we did was fight,' Holly said, not looking up. Traci leaned over, and grasped her hand.

'Hey,' she said, softly. 'Gail is going to be fine, okay?' The words were hollow, and they both knew it. With Jerry, Traci hadn't even had a chance to worry before she knew he was dead. All she'd gotten was that look on Andy's face, and the sudden, overwhelming realization that something was very, very wrong.

Holly shook her head. 'I can't believe you all do this every day. Any time one of you goes out there, you could _die_.'

Any words Traci might have had were suddenly caught in her throat. She'd been trying _so_ hard not to think of Jerry, but it was an inevitability that she couldn't avoid. Now was not the time to be burdening Holly with her own problems, though. Now was the time to use the empathy that being a police officer had fostered.

'You can't think about that,' said Traci softly. 'You can't think about what might happen. You have to think about the good things. Think about how she makes you feel.'

Holly gave a laugh. 'She's _ridiculous_, and stubborn, and a pain in the ass, and I can't stop thinking about her.'

At a little after three o'clock, Traci took a much needed trip to the bathroom. Even though they'd been at the hospital for just over four hours, it felt more like four years. There was just something about the whole process of worrying that was draining. When she returned, Steve was standing, as if waiting for something.

'She's out of surgery,' he told her, adding, with an almost relieved look, 'No complications, as far as they can tell. They're taking her to ICU now, so they'll let us know when we can see her.'

Traci nodded. That was good. As good, at least, as things could have been. Even Holly was looking a lot calmer, a lot less upset than she had just twenty minutes ago.

'You want to call your Dad?'

'I-yeah, I should,' Steve nodded, and excused himself briefly. When he returned, a nurse was waiting to take them to Gail. The walk down the hallway seemed to take a thousand years, and Traci could hear Holly's breathing starting to speed up.

'You go in first,' Traci told her, and she looked almost hesitant. She bit her lip, and nodded, stepping inside.

Traci looked over at Steve, who was shaking slightly. 'You okay?' she asked.

'No,' he answered. There were tears in his eyes, and he looked more lost than Traci had ever seen him. There were no words, no easy fix to make things better. Traci knew that much, at least. She took his hand in hers, and with a shaky smile, pushed the door open.

* * *

Yes, I know there was no Holly POV. That was a deliberate narrative choice. If you want to follow me on tumblr, look at all the fascinating things I reblog, harass me, etc, the link is on my profile page.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

All things considered, Gail could have looked a lot worse. Her skin was pale – far, far paler than normal – and the oxygen mask never made anyone look a picture of health. Her vitals were good, though, and the doctors sounded optimistic. Still, Traci, more than anyone, knew that things could go horribly wrong when you least expected them to.

Cracked collar-bone, sprained ankle, cracked ribs, and two scars that would probably stick around for years to come. On the whole, it could have been a lot worse.

Holly was sitting by the bed, and even though her eyes were dry now, Traci could see the redness there. They hadn't spoken a lot in the waiting room – just a few short words every so often. In fact, the only _real_ conversation they'd had, had been in the locker room – how many days ago was that now?

_This morning_, said a voice inside her head. It was almost seven and Holly was looking far more relaxed. That was a relative thing though, and there was a long way between "more relaxed" and fine. After today, Traci didn't think anyone would be "fine" for a long time.

Inspector Peck had been there for a few hours, accompanied by his wife's apologies, and a furrowed look that was the mirror of Steve's. He kept his distance, from a desire to be alone in his grief, rather than any deliberate rudeness.

When he stood to leave, he shared a few short words with Steve, followed by an almost stilted hug. When they pulled apart, Steve's eyes were red. Traci weaved her hand into his, and they say there for a long while, silently. Time stretched out, like putty; seconds felt like minutes felt like hours. Every moment that Gail remained unconscious, every moment they didn't know the full impact of her injuries, was the tiniest grain of sand in an hourglass the size of the universe.

Every time something happened, Traci found herself jerked from a reverie. A floral-scrubbed nurse rushing past with a clipboard, a doctor bending to pick up his dropped pen. The next lot of bustle came all at once; Traci blinked, and watched as what felt like a swarm of people entered the hospital room.

Dov, Chris and Chloe all looked exhausted, and Traci sympathized. She'd lucked out, being able to drop everything and come straight to the hospital. They'd had to keep working, knowing that Gail was in surgery.

'We brought food,' said Chris, almost apologetically. He set the bags down on the magazine-covered coffee table.

'Did you buy out the restaurant?' asked Steve, sounding slightly incredulous, but not entirely disappointed.

'Nah, he just likes to overcompensate,' Dov said, settling down into one of the armchairs. 'Wow, nice room.'

'It's the "I'm out of town, but I still care about you" package,' said Steve. He piled Chicken Chow Mein into his bowl. 'A couple of years ago I got hit by a runaway Camaro during a cocaine bust gone bad. Broken arm, broken leg, didn't see Mom for a week, but I did get the premium cable package.'

There was a smattering of laughter; Holly, however, remained silent. Traci didn't know the other woman well enough to know how she reacted during crises. Given her occupation, it was likely that she was calm under pressure, but there was a big difference between being calm under pressure, and being a robot.

Slowly but noticeably, Chris, Dov and Chloe wound down their visit. Chloe hadn't said much at all, and Traci was almost surprised that she'd showed up. She and Gail weren't exactly close, but then, Traci reasoned, she was probably there to comfort Dov as much as anything else.

'We have an early start tomorrow,' Dov told Traci. 'But we'll be back straight after shift.'

Traci nodded. She was briefly reminded of Oliver's words at Jerry's funeral, about how every just expected people to move on. There was no time to stop, no time to make sure people were okay...

They all needed a very long holiday.

Tonight, that was more and more clearly becoming apparent; it was Steve who was the next to leave.

'I've had some developments on a case,' he said, sounding tired, and upset, but resigned. Traci gave him a goodbye kiss to the cheek, and a pat to the shoulder. She could see Holly looking at them out of the corner of her eye.

'Gail's said some things,' the pathologist said, slowly, once Steve had walked out the door. 'But until now I never really realized that she wasn't exaggerating. Career really does come first, doesn't it?'

Traci wasn't entirely sure how to answer.

'It's an important job,' she said, evenly. 'Sometimes...we have to make the sacrifices we don't want to make. That doesn't always mean taking a bullet. Sometimes...it does, and both of those eventualities are hard things to deal with.'

Holly said nothing, but Traci could almost see the gears moving inside her head. Then, Holly straightened, and for half a second, Traci was confused, before she saw Andy and Nick step in, both of them looking more than a little awkward.

'You know, I'm just going to go get a coffee,' Holly said, standing abruptly. 'Do you want anything?' she asked Traci, and Traci shook her head. Holly walked out, without acknowledging either Andy or Nick's presence.

'Who was that?' asked Nick, frowning.

'She's Gail's friend, I think,' Andy said. 'She picked her up from the hospital, after...' Andy trailed off, her expression uncomfortable. Traci wasn't entirely sure what she'd been planning on saying. She didn't correct the assertion, either; it wasn't her place to be telling them about Gail's personal life.

'She works down in the lab,' Traci answered, which was not a lie in the least. 'They met on the Robbie Robins case.'

Nick's frown deepened, but he didn't say anything.

They didn't stay long, and Traci felt bad for feeling grateful. It wasn't that she didn't want them there, but as long as they were, Holly would stay away, and that wasn't in Holly _or_ Gail's interests.

When Holly returned, it was nonchalantly, as though she hadn't taken forty-five minutes to get coffee.

With no words between them, they resumed their silent vigil.

...

Holly only realized she'd been dozing when she jerked into wakefulness.

She didn't want to sleep – she _couldn't_ sleep – until Gail had woken up, until she knew for sure that everything was going to be okay. It took her half a second to notice that she'd only woken up because Traci had started to move.

'I hate to leave you here, but Dex needs me to come and get Leo,' the other woman said. Holly knew from Gail that Leo was Traci's son. 'Will you be okay here?'

Holly nodded, her body not quite numb. Every single inch of her was screaming with exhaustion, but she couldn't sleep. She couldn't leave.

Her validation came half an hour later, when she heard a soft groan coming from the hospital bed.

Gail was stirring.

Holly moved closer, trying not to notice the sudden increased pace of her heartbeat. 'Gail?' she whispered.

Gail's eyes fluttered open. 'Hey, Holly Golightly.' She spoke with an almost sheepish grin, which told Holly beyond shadow of a doubt that the other woman was not even the slightest bit aware of where she was, or what was going on.

'I didn't pick you for an Audrey Hepburn fan.'

'I have many secrets,' Gail said, with a laugh. Another person might have used the opportunity to pry for information, but Holly Stewart was not that person. She recognized and respected Gail's need for privacy, even if it was incredibly frustrating sometimes. Gail's expression suddenly turned to one of fear. 'Holly,' she said, her voice both quiet and serious. 'Am I dead?'

'Gail, you're f—you're going to be fine,' Holly said, trying not to let her voice warble.

'I'm scared.'

'You're going to be fine,' Holly said again, firmly, taking Gail's hand in hers. Gail squeezed tightly, and her whole body seemed to relax.

'I'm tired.'

'So sleep. I'll be right here.'

'I will,' Gail agreed. Then, she added, 'We need to go scuba diving.'

'Scuba diving?' Holly repeated.

'I wanna see some fish,' Gail said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

'O...kay. I didn't realized you liked swimming so much.'

'I like doing things with you,' was Gail's answer to that.

'You know, I don't actually _know _how to scuba dive.'

'Oh. Well then I guess we'll have to learn.'

'How good's your swimming?'

Gail had dozed off again before she could answer.

Holly's heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Somehow, the brief exchange had removed a barrier within Holly; now that she had spoken to Gail, now that she had heard her voice, she could sleep.

It wasn't until she closed her eyes and drifted off almost immediately that she realized just how tired she really was.

...

Holly started at the sound of footsteps.

Both Traci and Steve had promised that they would be back in the morning, but it still seemed far too early for them.

The woman had red hair, and a very familiar stance. If Holly wasn't mistaken, this was Gail's mother. Holly hadn't heard a lot, as such, but what she hadn't heard said just as much as what she had heard.

'You must be Superintendent Peck,' Holly said, standing to shake the other woman's hand.

'Please. Call me Elaine.'

'Holly,' Holly said. 'Gail's...friend.' The pause was too long for the other woman not to be suspicious.

'I wasn't aware that Gail _had_ any friends outside the Division.' The tone of voice was one of surprise, and for a brief moment, Holly felt a pang of pity. She had a few friends; there were people from college who she caught up with on a semi-regular basis, a few people she'd met at conferences, a couple more that she played sport with on the weekends. It was more that Gail's mother seemed surprised that Gail had any friends at _all_.

'Well, we did meet on the job,' Holly admitted. 'I'm a forensic pathologist. I do a lot of work with 15 Division.'

'Of course,' said Elaine, but Holly was smart enough to figure out that her main focus was not on Holly. The Superintendent moved to the side of the hospital bed, and stroked her daughter's cheek. Holly could see a softness in the other woman's eyes.

Regardless of whatever push Gail's mother had given her into the world of policing, it must have been hard, watching your children go to work, knowing they might not come home.

'She woke up briefly, but the drugs had her pretty out of it.' Holly gave a sad sort of laugh. 'She was talking about going Scuba Diving.'

'She always was getting herself into trouble.'

'She's strong,' said Holly, feeling completely unqualified, and completely out of her depth at comforting her maybe-girlfriend's mother.

It wasn't that Holly found parents in general hard. It just seemed as though _everything_ with Gail was hard. But that was how she knew it was worth it. Because at the end of the day, nothing made her happier than the ridiculous sight of a dopey Gail Peck grin.

'Of course she's strong,' Elaine said, almost dismissively. 'She's a Peck.'

The visit lasted another half an hour, during which time Holly kept mostly to herself. Elaine didn't say a great deal either, but Holly could see that, as with Gail, there was a lot more going on beneath the surface than most people realized.

Holly managed a little bit of sleep before the day really started, her alarm clock coming in the form of a Traci-less Steve. He was carrying a paper bag, and a beverage tray.

'Traci had to take Leo to school.' He handed over a very large paper cup that was warm to the touch. 'I figured you probably hadn't slept much.'

'Thanks.' Holly took a long sip of the coffee. 'So your mother dropped by a couple of hours ago,' she added, almost conversationally, and Steve stopped in his tracks. He gave Holly an uneasy sort of smile, as though he thought she was going to run off screaming.

'Oh, yeah,' he said, pretending as though he didn't find the idea terrifying in the least. 'Thoughts?'

'I'm not entirely sure,' Holly admitted, honestly. 'I can see...' She was going to say that she could see a lot of Gail in the other woman, but somehow that didn't seem quite right. 'I can see why Gail is the way she is.' Even _that_ sounded almost accusatory, but Steve seemed to understand what she meant.

'Just don't ever tell Gail that,' he said, smiling. 'For all their similarities, their differences are _very _different.

In addition to coffee, he'd brought her a breakfast wrap, and a bag of toiletries.

'So I've heard a lot about you,' he said conversationally, sliding into the chair next to her. Holly stared at him. She hadn't figured Gail for the "telling her brother about her girlfriend" thing. 'From Traci, mostly,' he added, for clarification. 'Gail and sobriety don't always mix.'

Holly choked back a teary laugh. That much, she knew. Outside, the sun was just starting to peek above the horizon.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

* * *

As always, reviews result in motivation. Tell me what you think.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

_She's strapped to the table, her eyes bound. She can hear his shoes against the concrete. Every time he comes close, she feels her heart beat faster. This time, he's going to do it. This time, he's going to kill her._

_She doesn't flinch when the knife pushes through skin, because she knows that in the end, everyone else is better off without her._

_Only he doesn't. He holds the knife up, sticky with somebody else's blood. "Why didn't you tell me you were a cop?!" he says, and it's in the same tone of voice that people use when they find out who her parents are, who she is. And that's when she knows that somebody is dead. That's when she knows, beyond shadow of a doubt, that her life is over._

_There's no more cavalry coming. He gags her, and _

_She wonders how he'll do it. Had the knife just been a weapon of opportunity? Does he have a slower, more painful death planned for her? He drags her up the stairs, and all she can do is let him._

_There's a blur of movement, and for a second she thinks that it's Swarek, because this is exactly the kind of gung-ho thing that Swarek would do, but he's wearing a suit, not a uniform. It's Jerry._

Traci's_ Jerry, and he's covered in blood, and he's trying to get her out of there, to give her a chance, but she just _can't_ move. The drugs and the fear have paralyzed her, and she knows that Jerry is going to die, that _she_ is going to die, because she can't do _anything.

And then, in a flash, she felt that stabbing pain in her wrist.

She was back in the basement, IV stuck in her, and his drugs pumping into her system.

It was a nightmare that she would never wake from.

The sudden loud beeping startled her.

Breaths came in short, sharp gulps.

Someone was saying her name, but their voice was so loud, so blurry that she couldn't quite figure out who it was.

'Gail,' the voice said. It was Dov, and she was kind of confused as to why. What the hell was _Dov_ doing there? 'You're okay. You're okay.' And then she remembered.

Perik was in jail.

He'd killed Jerry, and he was going to (hopefully) the rest of his life in prison. Gail's testimony, and the overwhelming amount of physical evidence had seen to that.

Her body calmed slightly at the realization, and only then, did she start to notice what she'd missed.

Her body was simultaneously both aching and numb, and her shoulder felt like it was on fire. Clearly whatever they had put her on was starting to wear off. Maybe that was what had woken her up. The memory of canvassing with Callaghan hit her all at once. The man with blood under his fingernails. The chase. The bullets.

Dov seemed to have decided that she was still unconscious, so he took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. He jumped about a foot in the air when she squeezed back.

'Jesus Christ, Gail!' he said, with a voice with was simultaneously terrified, amused, and relieved. Gail pulled off her oxygen mask, not particularly caring that doing so was probably a very bad idea. She wanted to be able to talk properly.

'I'm sorry,' she murmured, and her throat hurt like hell when she spoke. 'I just thought it'd be really funny to scare the crap out of you.'

'So these are the lengths you go to for payback when I finally beat you at Death Domain?' he asked. He was clearly trying to keep the conversation light, but she could see the haunted look in his eyes.

'How long have I been out?'

'Two days?' he said, some measure of uncertainty in his voice. 'All things considered, the doctors say you were pretty lucky.' Gail didn't want to ask what that meant. She didn't want to know how close she'd come to dying, or...or _anything_ else. She just wanted to...

Dov apparently noticed her eyes drifting around the room, as though she was hoping that someone would be hiding behind a cabinet or something. Dov was…awesome, but he wasn't who she needed to see.

'Hey,' he said, voice suddenly soft. 'I'm just the replacement crew. The last two days, these seats have been so full, I had to kick them out just to get half an hour to myself. I'm gonna give Traci a call on my way out of here.'

Gail nodded, appreciative of his words. The last thing she wanted was people to make too much of a show caring for her. It was bad enough that people would be funnelling in, trying to give her attention. At least when she'd been kidnapped, people had been focused on other things (not that she wouldn't have changed _that_ if she could).

'That means you're leaving now, I guess.' Gail wasn't sure why that fact upset her much. It was _Dov_.

'Chloe and I have plans tonight. Oliver was going to take the next shift.'

'Oh,' Gail said, not sure of exactly how to respond to that. 'Well, tell her I said hi.'

Dov gave her a look of mock confusion. 'Am I supposed to prefix that with "Gail says she hates you"?'

'I don't know. Whatever feels like it works. Maybe "Gail says you have weird cheekbones."'

'Weird cheekbones?' Dov repeated, clearly amused. 'Not one of your best.'

'I am currently on a _lot _of drugs, Dov. Cut me a little slack. What about "chipmunk cheeks"?'

'A little better,' he agreed. 'But unfortunately for you, those chipmunk cheeks are awesome.'

'Well whatever you two end up doing, please do not defile the couch. I have to sit on that thing.'

He stayed until Traci arrived, looking like she hadn't slept in a year. Gail almost felt bad for making Dov wake her, but at the same time, she wanted – she _needed_ – someone to be there.

'I'm an idiot,' Gail said, by way of greeting.

Traci gave a look, as though she was about to start laughing.

'You know, the two of you would be adorable if you weren't so frustrating,' Traci said.

Gail stared at her, thoroughly confused.

'Funny thing happened the other morning, though,' Traci continued, almost conversationally. 'I ran into someone who told me that she thought she'd screwed things up completely.' Gail stared at her. 'I told her she was dating an idiot. And from the moment you were brought in, she's been here for every second of it.'

Gail looked around, as though she was expecting to find Holly hidden behind Traci's handbag.

'She hasn't slept in two days, so I sent her home. I haven't told her you're awake yet, because I figured she'd probably kill herself trying to get her.'

'G—' Gail coughed, and cleared her throat with a wince. 'Good,' she said, but she was taken by a sudden feeling of sadness.

'I'll tell you what,' Traci continued. 'Since your brother is pretty much twisted around my little finger now, I could always make him go pick her up.' Gail immediately regretted laughing at Traci's words. A lightning bolt of pain coursed through her, lighting what felt like every single nerve ending in her body on fire. Traci's concerned voice echoed in her ears, and she gritted her teeth all the while, as she said, 'I'm okay. I'm okay.'

Traci didn't look convinced.

...

Half an hour later, Holly was standing at the edge of Gail's bed, and Gail was trying so fucking hard not to leap out of the bed and hug her.

'We're going for…coffee,' said Steve, pulling Traci out of the room. Gail was kind of glad – Steve had walked in on enough of her make-out sessions to make the whole thing kind of awkward.

'Gail?' Holly's voice was small, and more than a little fearful. 'How're you feeling?'

'I got shot, genius,' muttered Gail. It still hurt to talk, and she couldn't look at Holly for fear of starting to cry again.

'I know,' Holly said pointedly. 'You...' There was a long pause. 'You scared me, Gail.'

'I'm sorry,' Gail murmured. 'I'm an idiot.' She wasn't talking about the shooting anymore, and both she and Holly knew it.

'I know.' Holly grasped her hand tightly. Gail pulled her roughly down towards the bed, and they shared a short, simple kiss. Anything longer, and Gail knew she would have wanted to go further, which probably would have torn some stitches. 'I am too, so I guess we're in good company.'

Gail laughed, softly this time, and in addition to a brief burst of pain, she felt an unfamiliar sort of warmth, a kind of...satisfaction that she'd never really felt before.

She took Holly's hand in hers, and refused to let go. Gail Peck was not going to screw things up again. Not this time.

...

Steve stepped into the room, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 'Everything okay?' Traci asked, noting the almost troubled expression on his face. They'd been there for almost three hours, and yet this was the first time he looked even remotely worried.

Steve didn't say anything, but gave Gail a look. Apparently, they'd gotten pretty good at the "silent communication" thing over the years. Traci was glad, at least, that Holly seemed just as confused as she did.

'Do you want to tell us what's going on?'

Traci had a sudden realization. She'd seen that look before. 'The Superintendent.'

'As in…'

'Superintendent Peck,' Steve confirmed. 'Which means I'm about to get my ass kicked again because somebody chased after a crazy guy with a gun.'

'Oh, like you wouldn't have done the same thing,' Gail retorted, but Traci could tell that she was tired, and drained, and the thought of having her mother visit was just the straw that was about to break the camel's back.

'Holly…' Gail started.

'I'm not going anywhere,' Holly interjected, before Gail could tell her that she should leave. 'Your Mom was already here this morning.'

'You've met her?' Gail asked, slightly incredulous. 'And you're still here?'

Holly gave a look of confusion, as if she was unsure why everyone was so afraid. It was a look that a lot of people got before they figured out what was underneath that overly cheery persona.

Still, it was with trepidation that they waited, and Traci knew that Gail was wondering if she could get away with pretending to be asleep.

They didn't have to wait long. The Superintendent arrived with very little fanfare, even though she was in uniform.

'Mom.'

'Steven.' The older woman gave her son a look that would have made most grown men weep. Steve raised half an eyebrow, but his mother had already moved on. She gave Traci a short nod of recognition, but said nothing, which was probably about as good as Traci could have hoped for.

Then, the Superintendent stared down Holly, and Holly didn't flinch. 'It's nice to see you again, Polly.'

'Holly,' Holly corrected, not lowering her gaze. For about half a second, the Superintendent looked as though she might say something, but she didn't. Something approaching a smirk crossed her face – a knowing look that Traci had seen Gail (and even Steve) pull. It was the "I don't want to say it to your face, but my level of respect for you just increased marginally" look.

'Why don't you all go for coffee,' the Superintendent said. 'I'd like to have some time alone with my daughter.'

…

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Gail was perfectly happy to let her mother take the initiative in starting the conversation.

'You're applying for the Detective's rotation,' her mother said, eventually. It wasn't a question.

'Yeah,' Gail said, trying not to shrug. She wasn't surprised that _that_ was the first thing her mother said. It wasn't as though she'd been shot or anything.

'Whatever happened to "I don't give a shit if I stay in uniform for the rest of my career"?'

Gail considered the question. 'I'd like to think that I've seen some emotional growth since then.'

'Does that mean you won't pretend to be sick the next time I ask you to speak in public?'

'We'll see. I do have a pretty good excuse this time though,' she said, with a smile, which was not reciprocated in the slightest.

'So,' her mother started, and Gail knew that the thing she'd been dreading had suddenly arrived. 'This...Holly. Is she your girlfriend?'

Gail paused. It wasn't that she didn't know how to answer, it was that she wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to.

'Yes,' she said, eventually.

'Good,' said the Superintendent, and for a moment Gail was sure she'd misheard something. 'I like her.'

'Well now I _have_ to break up with her,' Gail said, a little stonily.

'Oh, don't be like that, Gail.'

'You hated Nick and Chris.'

'I didn't _hate _them, but even you could see they weren't right for you. Chris is a lovely boy, but he doesn't _push_, and Nick…' She pursed her lips, and didn't finish the sentence.

'I like her,' Gail said, still a little surprised she was having this conversation. It was the most sincere, the most _honest_ conversation Gail had ever had with her mother and that fact was more than a little terrifying. 'A lot. She...I do things that I wouldn't normally otherwise do.' A pause. 'Chasing down a serial killer was not one of those things. That was my own...idiocy.'

'You made the papers, you know.'

'Really?' Gail asked, surprised. _That, _people seemed to have kept from her.

'And a little birdie told me that there's talk of a commendation.'

'And I'm sure you had nothing to do with whispering in that little birdie's ear,' Gail said bitterly, wrinkling her nose. She knew her mother meant well, but the last thing she wanted was for the Superintendent to try and pull strings on something Gail knew she didn't deserve. Maybe Steve would be able to talk her out of that.

'You did well, Gail.' There was a long pause. 'I know I haven't said it, but I _am_ proud of you.'

'Thanks,' Gail murmured. Her eyes lowered.

'Next time, perhaps avoiding getting shot might save a few hearts attacks for your father and I.'

Gail couldn't help but give a small smile to that. 'I'll keep that in mind,' she said.

The Superintendent pulled the door to the room open, and ushered the others back inside. She was smiling, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

'It was nice to meet you, Holly. We'll have to do a nice dinner sometime, when Gail's out of the hospital. You're invited, too Detective Nash,' she added, as an aside. 'Steve speaks _very_ highly of you.'

And with that, she was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

The visitor that Gail had been dreading more than anyone else, was Luke. It wasn't that she disliked him; really, she liked him a great deal more than she liked most people. It was more so due to the fact that she didn't want to hear him talk about how badly she'd screwed things up.

'You shot a serial killer,' Holly said, pointedly, when Gail mentioned this. 'How is that a screw-up?'

Gail stared at her. Okay, so maybe not everyone thought like she did. 'We could have resolved it without any shots fired.'

More than being shot, the fact that she had _killed_ someone still stung.

_A memory jumps out, like the flash of a camera. Her finger, squeezing the trigger. Two shots to the chest. He doesn't make it._

The memories weren't exactly real memories. Her brain had filled in the gaps from what she'd been told by Traci. The fact that Luke hadn't been around yet told a haunting story. He'd called ahead, though, and she knew it was because he'd be wanting her to make a statement.

'Do you want me to stay?' Holly asked. Her hand squeezed Gail's tightly.

'I'm good,' Gail said. It would be easier without Holly there, even though her presence made Gail feel better. The last thing she needed was for the other woman to know in graphic detail exactly what had gone down.

Luke was clean-shaven, which probably meant something, but Gail was too tired, and too sore to care. With not even the slightest shred of shame, he set down a vase of tulips on the small square of free space.

'Hey,' he said, but that single word was loaded with so much more. Pity, and guilt, and, even though it probably wasn't intentional, and it _definitely_ wasn't on the surface, a little bit of anger and frustration and disappointment. Or maybe she was just hearing them because she expected to.

'If this is what happens when I ride with you, I think I'll stick with Oliver,' she said, in what was supposed to be an attempt at a joke, but Luke didn't seem to find it very funny. When his expression changed (was that _hurt?_), she added, quickly, 'Geez, Homicide, I was kidding. I'm fine.'

'So how'd you make him?' The question was almost casual, but Gail had been a Peck for long enough to diagnose ulterior motives at the drop of a hat.

'Blood under the fingernails.' Her hand clenched into a fist, tiny slivers of pain biting her palm. 'I asked him about Philip Wilder and the fucker threw his bag of cat food at me, and ran.'

'We raided his house – found two more bodies in the basement.' Another pause. 'You did good, Peck.'

'This was my first shooting,' she told him. It might have seemed apropos of nothing, but it really, really wasn't.

'You get used to it,' he said, in the tone of voice that told her that he'd never really gotten used to it at all. 'Just don't knock back all the wonderful psychiatric help they offer you.'

To that, Gail gave a disgusted groan. 'As if last time wasn't bad enough.' _Last_ time, she was overburdened with guilt. This time, she didn't know what she felt.

Shame? Anger? Exhaustion? All of the above.

All she really wanted was to go home and sleep for the next hundred thousand years, but even that was a hard sell; home was a place of constant noise and chaos, and, quite frankly, people that were far too annoying for their own good.

There was silence between them for a long time, before Gail eventually said, 'I'm sorry.'

'Sorry for what? Sorry for getting shot?'

She looked away, eyes fixed on the wall. He was, no doubt, getting used to the Gail Peck thousand yard stare. 'I hesitated.'

'You took him down, that's all that matters.'

Gail shook her head. 'No. I mean…' She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. 'I don't know. I just…I hesitated.' Being honest with people was one thing, but she wouldn't – she couldn't – tell him the truth this time.

'We all have bad days. We all hesitate under fire. You did well, and you're alive. Just remember that.'

Gail nodded. 'Thanks,' she said. He of all people would know the look of someone that thought they had nothing left to fight for, but Gail wasn't that person. Not anymore.

She steeled herself. 'Do you have enough now? For a statement?'

'I think this one can wait for a couple of days. I just wanted to check up on you.'

She gave him a different look, the look that generally preceded a sarcastic comment. 'Oh,' she said. 'Okay then.' A long pause. 'Thanks.'

'Well, I know how boring it gets when you're stuck on your own. And people have to work, so when you're in it for the long haul, you can't expect them to stick around forever.'

'Wow.' Gail grinned at him. 'You're such a wimp.' She paused. 'Hey, that thing I told you before...about living in my car. Is it alright if you...I don't know, don't tell anyone.'

'Peck, I don't have any friends. Who the hell am I going to tell?'

'I wouldn't say you had _no_ friends,' Gail said. 'I like making fun of you, that's kind of the same thing, isn't it?'

He shook his head, seemingly taking her comment for the affectionate gesture that it was. 'Get well soon,' he told her. 'I'm gonna need you.'

...

For a long while, Gail was alone again. The first time, she'd just assumed people hadn't been to visit because of the Jerry thing. This time, they had no excuse. Maybe it was because they really just didn't care. Not that she hadn't brought that upon herself.

But no.

It wasn't as though no-one had been around. The job just kept them all insanely busy.

Her arm ached, and her leg ached, but she wasn't quite tired enough to be falling asleep. Her eyes shot to the stack of books that Holly had left behind, the titles of which were entirely unfamiliar.

It was better, she decided, than _The Bold and the Beautiful_. Before she could even look at the first one, there was a knock on the open door.

It was Nick.

She stared at him. 'What are you doing here?'

'You got shot; I'm not allowed to be worried about you?' He settled himself in the chair beside the bed, which had most recently been vacated by Holly.

'No,' Gail said, with a tone of finality to her voice.

'You know, I vaguely remember you giving _me_ some advice about not getting shot.'

Gail pulled herself onto her elbows, with some difficulty, and no small amount of pain. 'That was mostly because I was worried about what I would do if you died,' she says, pointedly. 'Since we're not together anymore, it's not really the same sentiment.'

'Just because we're not together doesn't mean I'm not allowed to care about you.'

She almost sneered, but at the last second decided against it. She would have sneered out of habit, rather than from a sense of indignation. The anger that had raged through her at the thought of them together had simmered for some reason.

'All you ever did was leave,' she said, softly. 'And all I ever did was pull away.' She hesitated, not wanting to say the one thing that she'd been afraid to admit to herself for the last two months. Not because she still loved him, but because... 'Maybe we're better off this way.'

He gave a grim smile, but said nothing. Gail's throat was sore from so much talking, but there was something else that she needed to say, and if she didn't say it now, she was never going to say it.

'I'm sorry. For cheating on you.'

'I'm sorry for leaving.'

There was a long silence, but it was much less awkward than it would have been two weeks ago.

'I have a question.'

'Okay…'

Gail opened her mouth. She wanted to ask if he'd ever really loved her, but then she realized that she didn't care. It literally didn't _matter_ to her anymore, because no matter how much she might have loved Nick, she knew that she loved Holly more. She shook her head. 'Never mind.'

'Okay,' he said, again, though this time it was with amusement.

'I'm seeing someone,' Gail told him, in lieu of her original intention. 'She's...You probably already met her.'

'The forensic pathologist?' Nick asked, apparently not even remotely surprised by the revelation. 'Does _she_ eat your Mac and Cheese Puff Pie?'

Gail laughed, and quickly regretted it. 'You aren't allowed to make fun of my cooking anymore. And this doesn't mean I'm going to stop being a bitch to you.'

'Well now I know you're gonna be okay.' He smiled again, but it was clearly a pained one. 'I'm glad...that you're okay.'

'Me too,' she said, and she meant it.

...

Now that she was awake (and apparently less insane than she was before she'd been shot), Gail spent every waking second yearning to leave the hospital. 'It's just limbs,' she told her doctor, with no small amount of snark. 'It's not like I got shot in the head.'

He gave a reproachful look to that, and had apparently grown immune to the bitchings of his more annoying patients.

'It's not that bad,' said Holly, who had come straight from work. Gail stared at her, trying not to let the venom show.

'I have been watching nothing but _The Bold and the Beautiful_,' Gail told her, a little scathingly. 'If I see one more love quadrangle, my head is going to explode.'

'You do know you can get other channels, right?'

'The remote's broken,' Gail said, stubbornly.

'Uh huh. And you never thought to ask someone to bring you a new one? Or just change the channel manually?'

'Hey,' Gail said, looking up at her. 'There's something I need to tell you.' She pulled Holly down into a long, deep kiss.

'That's what you wanted to tell me?' Holly asked, when they pulled apart. To Gail's amusement, she was looking more than a little flustered.

'No, I wanted to say "I love you," but it kind of got away from me.'

Holly started. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. 'You are _utterly _insane,' she said. 'And I love you too.'


End file.
